Bound And Broken
by Northwestern-Requiem
Summary: When Decepticons get bored, Autobots better be afraid. Barricade has nothing to do and a vendeta to act upon, and a few unlucky Autobot get caught in the middle of a revenge centuries in the making. PxJ,PxB, JxB
1. Jazz

O

He was bored. Bored.

Uninterested.

Everything on the organic-infested planet was dull…  
Barricade growled into his energon, the earlier battle with the Autobots had left Megatron in a very bad mood, which kept the mood in the base sour and unpleasant. The leader was currently locked away in his chambers; brooding, no doubt. Leaving the rest of the army to dwell in the commons with their own brooding attitudes.  
He looked around at his present company and his olfactory sensor wrinkled. Sighing, he turned his thoughts to think of things he could be doing to relieve his boredom; if only he could get his hands on his true reason for being on this mud ball:

Prowl. His former bondmate. Who, right at this moment, was just a few hours' drive from him.

He truly missed the screams and cries that escaped from Prowl; but it couldn't be helped- the war had split them apart.

And now the little whore-bot had run off to not only join the Autobots, but now he was fraternizing with that obnoxious saboteur; Jazz.  
The black mech thought of the second in command bitterly; that damned bot! How dare he steal his mate away? Four red eyes narrowed in memory of their last meeting…  
_  
'…his legs looked like they were about to give under his weight, his armor was covered in energon and other fluids. Panting, trembling, he stood defiantly in front of the fallen Prowl. The Decepticon studied the strange Autobot: was he honestly foolish enough to stand in his way while he was reclaiming his bonded? Shifting his gaze to said bonded; he saw that the mech, though covered in wounds and gashes and curled in pain, was looking through agony-filled optics to look upward at his savior.  
"Move."  
"No."  
"I'll kill you."  
"Go ahead and try."  
"He belongs to me, you know that right?"  
"He belongs to himself, not to a low-down Decepticreep. Come near him again and your head is mine."  
"…Who are you?"  
Even through the visor he saw dangerously glaring optics. "I'm his bonded."  
He had torn into the Autobot with no mercy; yet both managed to survive the encounter no thanks to their annoying comrades…'_

Barricade snorted in irritation. He heard a snicker from his left; Skywarp, the jet sitting in the chair to his left and Thundercracker to his right. "What's the matter 'Cade? Still lost without your Autobot?"  
The seeker laughed, Soundwave, from his seat across the room, turned to look at them, another recent arrival, the tank-mech Backfire held a faint gleam of interest in his optics as he watched them, and Barricade himself then smiled- an idea shaping in his processor.  
"Gentle-mechs, tell me: are you …bored?" he asked in all innocence, loudly, enough so the whole room heard him.  
They all seemed taken aback by the remark; were they bored? Frag yes! What was there to do for a Decepticon other than to fight or pace all day?  
They didn't have to answer, Barricade grinned, standing to move to the center for everyone to see. All the Decepticon soldiers watched him with keen interest. The Saleen smiled, "We have so much time to spare nowadays, why not give ourselves something to do?"  
A low murmur of intrigue wafted across the room.  
"Gentle-mechs, what if I know a way for our boredom to be…relieved?" He smiled, fangs gleaming, "With, of course, help from the Autobots…"

The sun shone as if it never had before; bouncing off the landscape and making everything seem pure and peaceful. The soft sound of a slow, romantic song drifted through the air. It rooted its way back to a figure resting in the shade of a tree, sitting on an outcrop. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, and lips pulled into a content smile. He sat up and looked out over the outcrop to the land farther out; Blue skies complemented the wooded terrain and made the environment all the more beautiful. Gentle breezes caused the trees to make their own music that sang along with the quixotic ballad playing from his internal radio. The sapphire atmosphere reflected in his visor, making his image look quaint and happy; as if no war was taking place.  
Jazz had simply gone for a drive, but this was much more relaxing; the only thing that could make it better was if Prowl were here with him. Ho-hum. But the police cruiser had what he said 'too much work, not enough time.' Or something like that… Jazz tilted his helm, getting a better view of this world they came to know as a second home. If the Autobots really were going to stay here, he wasn't going to complain. The energon was abundant, atmosphere was peaceful, and the music was…awesome.  
_'If only Prowler wanted to spend as much time with me as he does with his data-pads.' _Jazz thought, a bit sourly. The mech couldn't relax, which was always subject of argument between them. Despite having a steady flow of energon, a planet that welcomed them and their people, and the upper hand in this war; Prowl always seemed to be in a flustered state of constant busy rushing. Always some report needing to be completed or files needing to be organized again.

But, being the mate of a tactician had its benefits; Jazz spent a lot of time working with Prowl, causing Jazz to be quite a sneaky planner. Even now, as the song ended and another one began, a diabolical plan to trick the Datsun into getting off work and spending some quality time with him was being formulated in his processor.

Off-lining his visor and turning up his music, Jazz lay back again and kept playing different scenarios in his head.  
And thanks to the shade of the tree, he didn't even notice when shadows fell over him. A prick on his neck was all he knew, and before he could react, the drug shut his systems down.

A harsh slap across his face bolted Jazz from his forced recharge. Powering up his optical sensors he saw nothing but darkness around him. A blinding light hung over him, piercing its way through his visor and into his optics. As he turned away from it; he stared in growing panic at his hand-it was bolted down with the metal bonds of a prisoner. Quickly turning to look at the other hand; he saw the same result.Lifting his head as much as he could and trying to get past the bright light, he spotted his legs bound by the knee and spread apart**. **Suppressed panic filled his body as he realized he was completely immobilized, and Jazz struggled to remember what had happened. He had been mulling over Prowl's work ethics when a sharp stinging in his neck had knocked him out. '_Slag.'_**  
**"Comfy, Autobot?" a familiar jeer broke his musings. Causing the bound mech to lift his helm and search the room for the source.  
A laugh erupted near him, causing him jump at the unexpected closeness. "Oh, careful; you're scaring him!" another voice teased.**  
**Anger and defiance coursed through him. "Nah, I'd really be scared if ya'd show your ugly mugs." he laughed into the darkness. The only response was mocking laughter that rippled into his spark**- **which promptly seized when its owner stepped into the dim light.**  
**Four gleaming ruby-red slit-like optics shined in the darkness.**  
**Barricade stood, along with the six seekers, Soundwave, and Backfire, each sporting some tool of torture. Whips, knives, lasers, Backfire even had a sword… Well this day was just getting better and better, Jazz thought.**  
**Barricade sat on the berth Jazz was strapped to, mimicking a gentle stroking his cheek. Jazz tried to jerk out of the touch- but the police cruiser just grabbed his chin and pulled his roughly to look back at his.Barricade smiled that malicious grin; fangs glinting the light.  
"This is going to be fun…" ****

Jazz groaned at the intense pain that wracked his body. Barricade and his cronies had done all they could to hurt him, not for information, but simply because they needed something to do; to play with. They had thought to try using a small-scale bomb on his hand-leaving the room and allowing it to blow four of his digits off, they had cracked and crushed his visor with blunt batons, destroyed his chest emblem, and decided to use a medical saw on his midsection to almost cut him in half, stopping only when they had cut through his energon tanks. And while they were at it, decided to have a little 'fun' with their Autobot prisoner. They left the room laughing, happy and excited to start planning for more fun things to do to relieve their boredom.**  
**Still strapped to the berth; Jazz could only hold out. He was lying in a pool of his own energon, the gashes ran deep and had cut into some of his nerve cables; the Porsche was in the most pain he had ever bore through. He hated this. Damn it all- he had only gone for a drive and now he was a Decepticon prisoner. Perfect…  
So he lay there; bleeding and alone. And in his spark he was somewhat grateful that Prowl had not come with him, Primus only knowing what Barricade would do.  
"…Prowl…"****

If his spinal cord was a person- it would kick his aft for staying in that hunched position for the hours he had sat there.But at least he was done. Stretching his limbs, Prowl stood, deciding to go get some energon and find Jazz so they could go to recharge together for once.**  
**A thought struck him when he realized Jazz hadn't come by his office to pester him every hour. Hadn't the saboteur come back from his drive this afternoon?His wings twitched, a little curious as to what had happened.Better find his bonded and find out.**  
**Upon arriving in recreation room; he saw that his bondmate was nowhere in sight, nobody was… though he did spot his once-psychiatrist, Skyraider, playing an Earthling video game called 'Call of Duty' or something. Not surprising, she never worked or did anything productive.  
Walking over to the couch she was laying back in, he touched her shoulder.  
"Have you seen Jazz by chance?"  
The femme only turned her head a little to face him without her optics leaving the T.V. screen.  
"Huh? No, he hasn't been in here all day."  
Raising an optic ridge in annoyance, Prowl flicked her helm. He was not in the mood for her short-attention span or blatant disrespect, "You've been playing this all day again haven't you?"  
The femme just shrugged and returned her attention back to the game. "More or less; but if you're worried about Jazz, just relax- slagger probably fell asleep out there again and he'll be back in the morning."  
Jazz had been known to doze off when the weather was nice and he was bored…**  
**Sighing, Prowl felt a bit relieved, only a bit though, "You're right, if he comes in late; hit him for me?"**  
**Skye snorted in amusement. "Will do."**  
**With that he left, energon in hand. He hated it when Jazz did stunts this. Optimus didn't like it much either, but Jazz was Jazz and could very well take care of himself. He always came back fine, anyway… The third in command just cycled a few breaths of air before heading to the quarters he shared with his bonded.**  
**He went in, locked the door, and flopped on the berth**. **Moaning as he flexed the muscular cables in his neck and shoulder joints, trying to stretch them and get the awful pain to subside. The Datsun finally rolled over, relaxing his joints with a sigh, thinking routine thoughts of his work and then drifting to Jazz. Was he really alright? Did something happen? Was he hurt? No, Prowl shook his helm to be rid of the thought. Despite his child-like demeanor, Jazz was fully capable of taking care of himself. He needn't worry about his mate, everything would be fine in the morning.**  
**Though he would be curious as to why the Porsche was so late in getting back to the Ark. Prowl then started to settle himself into a light recharge. Or at least he would have succeeded if a ripple of pure, undying pain flashed across his mental link he shared with Jazz. Feelings of panic and loathing were enough to jolt him upward, and a single, unspoken calling for him was enough to make him realize that his bonded wasn't just oversleeping somewhere in the desert.  
_"…Prowl…"_  
He felt cold for a minute before more pain set in. Pain ripped into every joint in his body, and he couldn't help but let out a strangled cry of pain that was not his own. It gripped him, and everything started to go black. But the pain wasn't on his mind as he went into stasis, only Jazz. What had happened to him?  
_Jazz…_


	2. Ratchet

Disclaimer/ I don't own Transformers- I wish I did but that honor is to Hasbro/ Takara…I own Skyeraider and Whitenoise…and the story

O

Another sweet, delicious scream departed his vocals and excited Barricade; giving him quite a high form the audible sign of pain. Red optics drank in the sight of his prone victim lying sprawled on the tablet before him. Energon pooled around him, old and new. Smiling a rather evil smirk, he trailed his sharp claws around the mutilated armor. The Autobot had broken mere hours before: tears now ran down his face in streaks, his beaten body trembling and all hope devoid from his form. This delighted him to no possible end; the mech that had stolen away his beloved Datsun- now reduced to a shivering pile of scrap metal. How befitting…  
"You do realize that you brought this on yourself. Had you not seduced Prowl like an expert harlot and taken him from my possession- I would have no reason to do this to you." He sneered, coating every word in poison and malice.  
After a pause and a few cycles of air, the captive spoke fearlessly. "But Im sure you would have done it anyway, Decepticreep.," the Saboteur looked up into the quad-optical face and snarled back, "And Prowl is **NOT** your…_possession_- He's his own mech and doesn't belong to anyone."  
Chuckling, the police cruiser simply put his hands behind him and strode to the other side of the berth. "All that, yet you don't deny being a slut, eh?" he laughed again at Jazz's glare. Stopping his movement; Barricade towered over his prisoner evilly. "I went and took the liberty of dipping into your past. And I must say, I was very disappointed. Your beloved mate must not know what you did in your early days as an Autobot; otherwise I don't think he'd be your mate at all, now would he?"  
If the bot had the ability to, he surely would have been blushing in sheer embarrassment and shame. "It's none of your business, but we both decided to keep our pasts IN the past. That's why he never told me about you until-" He stopped himself short and looked away, but the Black mech wanted to hear those words. Grabbing Jazz by the chin, he forced the Porsche to look at him. "Go on; say it!" Jazz held firm. Barricade just grinned with intense pleasure- this Autobyte was giving him the greatest high he had since he and his beloved ex-bondmate had reunited.  
"Say it, Porsche- say _'until I took you away from him!' 'Until I tortured you and he could do nothing but watch!' 'Until I made him mine again only to have you interrupt!'_" he sneered as the memories hit his prisoner; so much Energon coated them all, so many tears shed and screams let loose. Prowl had been desperate to hide it all from Jazz; as if he was purely ashamed. He was. After their last encounter with Barricade, from which Barricade had struck Jazz across the visor so hard with a whip that he had nearly lost his sight, Prowl had blamed himself for everything. Jazz had tried to console him, but the fact that he had tried doing so while lying barely online with wounds littering his frame on an emergency medical berth, Ratchet struggling to keep his spark stable, didn't exactly help the situation. The saboteur was tugged from his thoughts when he felt something soft against his midsection. Looking as best he could downward; he saw Barricade was kissing the wound on his front gently. Disgusted, Jazz was about to scream for the Decepticon Officer to get off him, that his touch was as poison as his words were.  
Before he could; Barricade smirked and bit down into the bloody metal, sharp fangs inciting a tearful cry. One that drove Barricade mad with murderous passion- he sank his teeth deeper and deeper into the Autobot's already damaged and sore armor. He continued for several minutes until he could no longer go any deeper. Sighing against his captive's flesh- the black mech stood up; Energon dripping from his lips as they curled into a smile.  
Jazz bit back the pain to send a glare into the four ruby-red optics; the one's that plagued his lover's nightmares, haunted him wherever he went, and had utterly ruined him. This monster; this loathsome creature of the abyss; whose whole life seemed to revolve around torturing Prowl and bringing him nothing but pain and absolute anguish, could do nothing but just smile at him with complete pride.  
"Damn you…" he spat in venom.  
Barking out laughter, Barricade just composed himself, looked to Jazz, and struck him across the face. Gritting his teeth; the Porsche looked back to see the mech, still smiling, looming over him.  
Mustering up all the hate he could, Jazz let it out in five simple words; "I'm going to kill you."  
With a grin, the Black mech grabbed one of the saboteur's horns and turned his head to speak into his audio receptor. "Go ahead and try." He sneered before leaving Jazz to wallow in hate, pain, and utter despair.  


"I told you all I can, Ratchet; I just felt a pain in my spark. And I know it belongs to Jazz; he's hurt somewhere and we have to find him!" Prowl tried to reason calmly with the medic, though his statement had come out with more desperation than originally intended. He couldn't help it though; he had felt unimaginable pain from the small part of Jazz's spark that resided within his own- and it was enough to knock him out for several hours, long enough for a concerned Bluestreak to come knocking at his quarter's door looking for him. He had been late, and if Prowl was late, the world apparently came to an end. After searching the room frantically for his bondmate or any sign that the Porsche had been there at all, he left –pushing past Bluestreak and heading straight to the commons where Skye was in the exact same place as where he had found her the previous night. The Datsun had asked about Jazz; but the jet-femme was less than helpful…  
- - - - _  
"Skye?!" he cried to the medical assistant. But his only response was a half-hearted 'huh?' Growling in frustration, Prowl walked around the couch to where she was sitting and promptly grabbed the controller out of her hands. Through her transpara-steel visor, she glared bloody murder at her superior. "What?"  
Getting right to the point, "Have you seen Jazz?"  
Slumping her shoulders in disbelief, she gave a ticked off roll of her eyes to the 3IC before snatching the controller back into her grasp. "Dude, ya asked me that question 10 minutes ago, and the answer's still a big-fat N-O. And when ya put it together ya get; NO!"  
Ten minutes? Checking his internal chronometer; he found that Skye desperately needed to stop seducing or intimidating others to do her work for her, those games had fried her systems. "Skyeraider! It's been 10 HOURS, you played that mindless game all night!" he practically screamed at her, though it wasn't surprising, she had often done something like this…  
"Whoa, chill out there Prowlie! M'sure Jazzy's just fine." As much as he hated the fact that the already-annoying nickname Jazz had unwillingly bestowed upon him had spread around, he hated the fact that the femme was so incredibly dull that she found it more exciting to play a game of war rather than participate in one. Restraining the urge to strike Skye across the head again, he just growled and rushed to the Medbay.  
- - - - _  
Ratchet had proceeded to call in Optimus once he had checked to make sure nothing on Prowl's body could have caused the pain. The CMO was officially sure that it was Jazz who was in peril and maybe in need of a rescue team.  
"Have you tried to make any contact with Jazz?" the leader asked once arriving.  
Ratchet was examining Prowl's spark to make sure none of it was failing. "Sure did, I tried calling him over his comm. link and Prowl tried to use his bond; both didn't make it through."  
Prime looked to the tactician who had worry etched into his face. He knew Prowl was quietly going out of his mind thinking of what could have befallen his lover. But since no distress call had been made, he could not assume the worst yet.  
Seeing that Ratchet was done with examining Prowl, he quickly reached a decision.  
"Ratchet- I want you to go out and look for Jazz at the location where his last signal was sent out. Since he didn't try and reach us for help, I can only assume that maybe he fell and offlined himself."  
The medical officer nodded and left the Medbay, leaving the two ranking officers alone in the room. Despite the dull throbbing that still wracked his body; Prowl struggled to get up and address his leader.  
"You-…you really think that Jazz is just offline?" he asked, as if trying to get reassurance.  
Optimus saw it and nodded. "You know Jazz; he tends to be a bit reckless. I'm sure he's just fine, Ratchet will find him; then Im not so sure…" he said, amused. Prowl smiled and left to do his work.

Ratchet sped through the desert, keeping his radar sharp for signs of a spark signature. Primus forbid that he waste any time in finding and retrieving the cocky saboteur, Prowl would surely have his head. Hmph, Prowl. What a character- before he and Jazz started their relationship; he was cold, stoic, very work-centered and focused. Now he actually slacked, even if it was only a bit, a little more tolerant and patient as well. And as for Jazz himself? Well, he had actually matured- if only just microscopically. Their being together was actually a very talked about subject among the soldiers of the Ark. Everyone had 

seen the pairing coming except for the pair themselves. It had been obvious from day one; Jazz had taken special interest in seeing if he could break into Prowl's defenses, once doing so- Prowl opened up to Jazz about everything; the two would talk for hours on end, they became the best of friends, and to many a bots' dismay and joy; the two finally got together. Oh, he had to admit it, even he had spent a few moments to himself thinking about the saboteur, he couldn't help it- no one could- the mech was just too likeable.  
Even after arriving at the location specified, transforming and searching the area; the medic mused to himself quietly about the two ranking officer's bond. So much so that he didn't even hear the two seeker's approach.

Groaning, the mech tried to bring himself out of darkness. Once he onlined his optics to find himself staring at the dark grey ceiling...wait- the ceiling in the Ark was orange...  
Jolting up a little, he heard the familiar sound of chains rattling. _'what the?'_ he thought to himself. looking down to his wrists, he saw in shock that they were bound together with heavy cuffs and thick wires wrapped around his wrists.  
There also was a heavy collar around his neck that strung him up to the ceiling. Ah, the last thing he recalled was turning around only to be struck across his helm and blacking out... but what-  
"R-Ratchet?..." a weary voice called him out of his stupor. Painfully; he looked to see something that made the energon in his veins run cold;  
Jazz was lying, strapped down with heavy bolts, on an energon covered tablet. His body was destroyed and mutilated, but the wounds were not seriously life threatening though...The mech's captor had been careful not to cut into any necessary cables or wires. The energon was pooled merely because the bot had been lying like that for so long. Ratchet saw that the Porsche's visor was crushed and he realized Jazz may have not been able to see who it was.  
"Jazz, I'm here; it's me- are you alright?" stupid question; the Autobot had a gash the length of his arm across his middle- how could he be alright? Prowl wasn't going to like this at all...  
The incapacitated mech smiled a little, "Just as fine as one can be in this kinda situation, Doc. How 'bout you?"  
The medic quickly did a self diagnostic, seeing that everything was fine. "I'm not damaged."  
"Yet." came a cruel voice from the darkness of the room. The white and red mech heard Jazz bite back a whimper. The Decepticon's he recognized as Barricade, Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker emerged from the shadows.  
Resiliance claimed him, "Where have you Creeps taken us?!" he demanded- only to get hit on his helm- the force of which snapped a piece of his chevron.  
"Where is not an issue, my dear Autobot. But let me assure you, you will not be rescued. So why not enjoys what's to come..." Barricade sneered in a evil voice, one that Ratchet knew forbode something he was sure not to like...

The four mechs snickered at the sight; the proud Autobot CMO, now chained, tortured, and broken. Large gashes covered his body. His windshield was smashed and cracked as well as his left optic. Ratchet could barely hold on to consciousness, but a shrill female voice broke the drowsyness.  
"Barricade, Starscream; you fraggin' slaggers- where have-" the voice stopped, and through his good optic; he saw a completely monchromatic visored femme staring down at him in disgust.  
"Why'd you bring Autobot filth here?" she snarled. Ratchet noticed that the femme had a 'British accent' of sorts. Like Grapple, only more sinister.  
Skywarp piped up from his position on the tablet next to Jazz."Aw but out, Whitenoise, we're playing with our Autobots." the seeker then went back to stroking Jazz's chest as the mech squirmed underneath the touch.  
Barricade walked over to 'Whitenoise' as she was called, and placed a hand on her shoulder as they both looked down at the medic. "If you promise not to inform Megatron, When we capture SkyeRaider again- she'll be all yours..." This obviously interested the femme as a cruel smile spread her lips. One that made Ratchet fear for his assistant's life...  
"Alright then, which of these mech's do I get to play with?"

Optimus was truly on edge- Ratchet had not returned or even responded to the multitude of comm.s he had sent to the CMO. And still nothing from Jazz. Prowl had worked himself up and was near begging the Autobot leader to let him go and search for his beloved.  
He had calmed himself down to work out what could have happened. And he knew the Decepticons had to be at work- While Jazz may have been foolish enough to offline himself, Ratchet was not.  
After praying to Primus for their safety, he went back to his work; carefully preparing a team to try and recover the two lost mechs.  
Inferno, Sideswipe, and Smokescreen were on-call the next day, they would have to do the best they could if Jazz and Ratchet did not respond.  
He just truly hoped that they would not come too late.

O

Sorry yall, wrote this at like 3 Am, I was SO dead.

Working on CH 3 but I have family coming to annoy me so it might be late

DJ


	3. Blaster

Break-time came too slowly for Blaster- it always did. Leaving communications, he started to make his way out the door of the Ark to get some fresh air in the outside areas. He stretched his stiff neck; rolling it around to work out tightness. Thanks to being stuck with Jazz's shift, he was sore, stiff and in need of some Motley Crue or Linkin Park. _'Damn lazy bot, if he spent the day messin' around with Prowl; I'm gonna push him off a cliff…though Prowl would kill me then…' _Sighing to himself; his thoughts went to meander into visions of the saboteur and how compatible the two could have been. Blaster had tried to give Jazz hints of his crush, but either he had ignored the attempts or didn't even notice them. Either way, the saboteur had bonded with Prowl- any chance that Blaster had once had was lost. Though he shouldn't be so selfish, after all- The stoic tactician had taken amazing care of Jazz and it was obvious how in love the two were. It was hard for anyone to tell at first; the two acted the same way that they always had- Jazz annoying Prowl, Prowl getting mad and threatening to throw him in the brig, Jazz shutting him up by revealing a embarrassing fact about Prowl in front of everybody and then Prowl would respond by smacking Jazz over the head.

Yup, that was their typical friendship.  
The Ark crew only knew they were in a relationship when one of their little 'acts of friendship' ended with the Datsun dragging him by one of his horns out the door of the lounge. He remembered it so well…

The crew had been chatting about relationships at the table of the room one day, and of course many a mech was trying to hit on Jazz- who remained oblivious.  
"I'm just askin' ya, Jazz; why isn't someone like you in a relationship?" Inferno, a long time buddy of Jazz's, asked curiously. Fortunately for most of the mechs there- Inferno already had Red Alert for himself.  
The Porsche simply shrugged, as if the fire truck had asked him why the sky was blue.  
Cliffjumper sat back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. "It's probably because you spend all your time with Prowl now and days." The mini-bot laughed.  
Jazz just took a sip of Energon. "Well Prowler IS my best friend." He clarified.  
Sideswipe just snickered, he, like his brother, had a long standing crush on the saboteur.  
"Yeah, you might as well be in love with your best friend."  
Jazz, the good sport that he was- took it in stride and laughed, especially when Prowl walked into the room.  
"Be in love with my best friend, huh?" he smiled, making Prowl raise an optic ridge in question. Jazz stood and walked over to Prowl, " Well, if I was, I should most definitely tie him to a chair and mess up his quarters- he's excessive compulsive like you wouldn't fraggin' believe!" He joked, poking Prowl's door-wings. The tactician gave a growl and grabbed Jazz, immediately pulling.  
Jazz yelped as he was grabbed by one of his sensitive appendages and dragged out of the safety of witnessing optics. All who were in the room laughed loudly at the face of pain and slight fear as the white and black Datsun hauled him to his doom.  
Bluestreak- going to try and keep the peace- finished his laughing and opened the door- when he did, jaws dropped to the floor. The gunner had opened the door wide enough for all to see and only to show the two mechs in a heated kiss; Prowl pinning Jazz to the wall.  
Oh yes, much gawking had taken place…  
The bright sunlight that hit Blaster's optics shook him free of his revelry as he exited to the 

outside desert terrain. It didn't occur to him that Jazz had been missing for two days now and that Prowl had worked himself into a trembling frenzy. From what he had heard; Jazz was down with a virus and Prowl was just being that overdramatic lover.  
Of course every time someone even mentioned Jazz in Prowl's presence, the tactician tensed up and started to tremble nervously. It had been noticed by several mechs and the Datsun had been teased about it- anywhere from being called as paranoid as Red Alert to others jeering that he and Jazz must have jumped him and showed Prowl truly how wild he could get.  
And yet, Blaster had seen the frightened look in his blue optics that told it was so much more…  
The red mech stopped where he stood, realizing he was walking away from the Ark. Red had warned all not to leave the vicinity the other day by penalty of the brig for a week. Optimus had enforced it well; and few mechs dared to go against their commander. Blaster couldn't figure out why no one was to go great distances, he figured it was partly to keep a sick Jazz from leaving- probably to keep Prowl from having a spark-attack if he discovered his 'dying' lover gone.  
Shrugging a little, he turned and continued. He was only going a little ways away; he would stay in sight of the Ark's radars.  
Speaking of missing bots- there had been no shrill and angry yelling when Wheeljack had blown off his arm and part of his mid-section in another freak experiment. Where in Primus' name was Ratchet? He would have chewed another hole in the Engineer. Blaster frowned at that. Would Ratchet be so overwhelmed by Jazz that he spent all day working on him? Was the virus that extensive? Maybe that was why Prowl was so nervous and afraid.  
Putting two and two together- it was the only solution that came to mind. _'Yikes. Man, when I get back, I'm gonna see if he's doin' ok. Wouldn't wanna lose my buddy anytime soon…'_ he thought. Blaster and Jazz had been long-time friends, both being lovers of music and strong supporters to the Autobot cause. When Prowl was busy and they both had time off, they liked nothing more than to listen to and debate music. Musicals, Songs, Music videos, Genres, Artists, Soundtracks of different movies- the works. A sting of pain flashed in his Spark; before Prowl and Jazz had bonded- Blaster and the Porsche would spend hours and hours talking, listening, and overall chilling with one another; all those afternoons that he had alone with Jazz- any one of them would have been perfect for the stereo to admit his feelings for the 2IC, but no, he had been foolish and thought he had all the time in the world. After all, besides Prowl, HE was the closest mech aboard the Ark to Jazz, and at the time- Jazz and Prowl just hadn't seemed compatible or even the remotely interested in one another. No one had ever once just stopped and wondered if the two had feelings for each other- it was just too strange a pairing. Much like all the other pairings of the Ark…Damn, they really should have seen it coming…  
After all- Ratchet, someone whose life's work revolved around healing and stopping pain, fell for Ironhide, whose self-proclaimed position required him to inflict pain on anyone who came too close to his leader. Red Alert, a frail, paranoid mech who was used to keeping everyone away, fell for Inferno, a mech who was brash, strong, and very sociable. Hound and Mirage, Skye and Wheeljack, and then Prowl and Jazz…  
It seemed like the Ark's mission was now to make the most unusual pairings in the galaxy rather than to stop the Decepticons and get energy back to their dying home-world.  
Head in a torrent of thoughts, he hummed a tune from his internal radio as he walked under the shadows of some trees- not even realizing he was well beyond the sight of the Ark's radar systems.  
The trees shook without much attention as a malice-coated voice snickered in camouflage.  
"Got another one…"  


Ratchet groaned as he was finally able to close his legs. Thundercracker panted and smiled down at the damaged medic. He didn't even want to know what was going on in that cruel head of his. Looking through a damaged optic over to Jazz, he saw the same thing he did last time he looked- Energon and a limp body. Ratchet heard the door shut- indicating the seeker had left to do something else. Megatron must have not known they were there, otherwise the Decepticons leader would have made some effort to get information out of the two of them; so far, they had simply been left to Barricade and his friends' mercy. "J-Jazz?" he called out to his comrade. The medic's voice was strangled by the heavy collar that clasped around his neck and raised him up into an uncomfortable sitting position. No reply._ 'Damn,' _he swore to himself. _'If Jazz doesn't get help soon, he might offline for good.' _  
The door opened once more and Ratchet readied himself the best he could. But he was not prepared to see an already-mutilated Blaster be thrown in; cuffed and bleeding.  
Before the medic even had the chance to glare at the stereo's abuser, the door slammed- leaving the two mechs.  
Blaster hefted himself up onto his knees. "Uhn, gonna feel that in the mornin'…" he groaned. Ratchet would have shaken his head if he had been able. "Yeah, you and us both."  
Blaster snapped his head up to look at the CMO. "Ratchman! You're here? What the hell's been happening?" the red mech bombarded Ratchet with questions as he moved himself over to the strung-up mech and unlatched the collar. Instinctively, the medic rolled his neck and raised his bound hands to rub his aching shoulders.  
He started to explain what had happened, where they were, and why they were here.  
At the end of his rant, Blaster gave an involuntary shudder. "S-so Jazz…I mean…i-is he gonna…" the red mech couldn't bring himself to finish.  
Ratchet only shook his head- unable to answer. "We can only pray that help comes in time now…"  
_  
Jazz sighed as he held his shaking lover. Another night- another nightmare or Barricade's 'love'. It almost brought the saboteur to tears when he saw his normally professional, strong-willed, and controlled bondmate so scared and clingy. After it had been established that Prowl was the dominant one in their relationship due to the many phobias and fears that Barricade had implanted in him, Prowl had taken up his normal attitude and personality- even going so far as to once again start threatening to throw Jazz in the brig should the Porsche keep pestering him in his office. By day- Prowl was himself, or at least the mech that had been born after Barricade's cruelties, the one everyone knew and respected (mostly) as the 3IC. And Military Tactician. But by night- when he could do nothing but dream of his previous affair with the black Saleen and the torture and humiliation he had had to endure for so many years before the war had broken out. And here he was now- holding onto his mate with all his strength as he sobbed and shook.  
"Baby, it's ok; I'm here, he isn't going to touch you ever again…" Jazz tried to soothe his distressed Datsun.  
Prowl just shook, feeling so whorish and wrong, "No, he's still here, it's all going to happen again and I-" sighing, he withdrew- trying to pull himself from Jazz's embrace, but the Porsche refused. "Please let me go, I don't deserve to touch you, let alone be your lover. You deserve better than me…"  
The tactician sobbed. Jazz refused; he knew it was the memories' making him so self-conscious, _

_Prowl was normally possessive of Jazz and never let the 2IC flirt with anyone else.  
"I don't want anyone else but you, babe. Stop underminin' yourself- you're wonderful!"  
"No, I'm nothing more than Barricade's toy and-" he was stopped by a smack across his cheek.  
Prowl looked up into Jazz's anger filled face and feared the worst. "Quit it! Ya ain't nobody's toy!" he relaxed his features, held onto Prowl and pulled the Datsun down to lie on their berth. Reaching up with a black hand, he let his digits caress the place he had struck and spoke again in a soft tone. "You're you, and I happen to love ya, so don't ya dare start goin' on and on about how horrible ya are- it's all in that part of your head that Barricade corrupted. Its over- you're safe, as long as Im around- he ain't goin anywhere near ya." To prove it, he leaned up and gave Prowl a peck on the lips. He returned backwards and saw to his satisfaction, a calmed down Prowl with a slight smile on his face.  
"That's my Prowler." Jazz chuckled as he hugged himself to Prowl's chest plate- listening to the rhythmic pulsations of the spark underneath. "Mine." He hugged possessively to Prowl- who laughed at the childish gesture. Returning the hug, he leaned down to Jazz's audios. "Mine."_  
Jazz drowned himself in memories of Prowl- the one face he truly hoped to see when he next onlined his optics. But for now, he was simply content with remembering what was waiting for him. Energon, friends, and a nice, comfy berth he could strap his mate to and have a little fun.

Red Alert watched on the monitor as his bondmate, Smokescreen and Sideswipe took off into the desert to where Autobots went missing. Knowing Inferno could fully take care of himself, the Security Director shifted his gaze to a blank monitor. He pulled up a command prompt and typed in the address to another camera he usually didn't need. The screen flashed and showed a nervous looking mech sitting behind his desk, one hand resting under the mech's chin with one digit bit between dental plating, the other grasping a pen that was pushed to a data-pad, but was unmoving. The mech's door-wings were swept up into a high, uncomfortable position that looked to be painful if left in such a way. Fear was burning the sapphire optics as they stared off into space. The mech looked like he had barely recharged or nourished himself. Red sighed, Prowl was a mess and didn't appear to be calming in the least bit.  
His glitch started to flash images of his beloved dead on the ground- his spark covered in his own Energon and held in a laughing seeker's hand. Shaking his head free of such thoughts, he turned the monitor of Prowl's office off. Sitting back in his chair, nervousness set in.  
Where were the others? Were they alright? Were they still functioning? Jazz, the Second in Command and Head of the Black Ops Division, Ratchet, the Chief Medical Officer, and now Blaster- who had been sighted leaving the Ark earlier that day when he had his break. The fool, he had been warned not to leave- and now no one had seen him since- even when his shift resumed.  
Red prayed to Primus that his lover and the others were going to be ok and that the three missing Autobots were at least still alive. He feared the worst for Prowl should the rescue party returned with corpses in hand.

Prowl feared he would break. Not physically (thought he may break-down), but mentally- the downside of being a tactician and having a wild, spur-of-the-moment, saboteur as a mate was the horrifying possibilities that entered his mind.  
Jazz could be reformatted into a Decepticons.  
Jazz could be tortured for information.  
Jazz could be dead.  


Tears welled into his optics. It had been days since he saw his lover. Today was day 3 of his absence and it was taking its toll on the weary mech.  
He didn't care about coming up with tactics for the war effort, he didn't care about stopping Skye and Brawn from getting into another fight and keeping Sunstreaker from joining in; he only cared about the only mech in his lifestream that cared for him.  
He wanted Jazz to return, alive and as well as could be. He needed Jazz to be alive.  
If he was not then Prowl feared there would be nothing left in his spark to root him to the world of the living.


	4. Inferno, Smokescreen, Sideswipe

The trio sped through the desert towards the direction where three of their comrades had disappeared. The day was warm and sickly humid and had no breeze like it had before, but the clouds above were racing along; a sign of a storm not too far off.  
Inferno, Smokescreen, and Sideswipe had been charged by Optimus to search for the three missing Autobots that had been picked up, supposedly, by Decepticons Seekers.  
To pass the time, they had started talking over their comm.links about the whole thing.  
"I say that Jazz went after that Barricade guy for trashing Prowl and got snatched." Sideswipe joked, masking his worry for the mech that had practically raised his brother and himself from younglinghood.  
Smokescreen chuckled, "Sure, and I bet that Ratch got sent and Blaster missed his darling of music, got spark-broken, and went after Jazz. I'm surprised Prime wouldn't let Prowl come along with us- he's about to snap or have a conniption. Either one would be hilarious to watch- Inferno, does Red tape surveillance?" he teased, hailing the fire truck from his obvious daze.  
"Yeah he does, but he'll never hand 'em over ta anyone, not even me!"  
"Bummer." SideSwipe agreed.  
"Ah just hope Prowl don't go and do anything stupid before we get Jazz and the others back ta base."  
The other two snickered at the thought of PROWL doing something stupid or just plain intellectually-challenged while Inferno went back to his musings. He thought fondly of his bondmate and how horrible it would be to be separated from Red Alert without knowing where he was or what had happened. Though he really never had to worry about Red being in danger; the Security Director was overly-cautious and always tense and alert to his surroundings. He was usually more of a threat to himself by staying up for days without rest or sleep all for the purpose of watching over the Ark like a guardian angel. But to have someone like Jazz as a mate; poor Prowl must be out of his mind 24/7. Still, he couldn't help but worry for his friends; to be trapped as a prisoner in the base of your mortal enemy, wherein they could do to you as they pleased with no moral standing whatsoever must be the most terrifying thing any 'bot could lay awake at night and dread for. Inferno hoped that he could make a difference and bring the captives back home safely to their loved ones.

Jazz was lying in Blaster's arms, moaning in pain and whimpering from his dreams occasionally. Blaster had his hands maneuvered to stop the heavy flow of Energon that drained from the Porsche's multiple wounds. Ratchet was on the other side of the stereo, doing the best he could with the poor mech, but from the medic's expression- it wasn't too good.  
"So what's going to happen, Doc? Is Jazz gonna go…_offline_?" Blaster choked out the last word with effort as fear strangled him. The medic was silent for a moment; his hands fiddling around Jazz's body, before he paused and pulled back. Ratchet's shoulders slumped and his face didn't drop its fearful look. "He's not doing well. Jazz has been without Energon for too long and his wounds aren't helping what's left of it in him." Ratchet shook his head, "Factoring unseen damages, I doubt Jazz will last another 50 hours or so." He said grimly. Blaster looked as if he'd seen Ratchet roast a kitten. Together, after they were left alone, they had gotten the restraints off the poor tortured mech and managed to get Jazz into a position where they could do the most they could.  
Meanwhile; Jazz was lost in a memory of the past he'd retained for times when was saddened._  
'Please?'  
'No.'  
'Aw, C'mon, Prowler. Pretty please?'  
'Prowl. And, No, Jazz.'  
'PLLLLEEEEEAAAASSSSEEEE?'  
'No. You can beg and plead all you want to, but I still won't allow you to go.'  
'Why not?'  
'Their last concert ended in a police movement, I refuse to let you get into that.'  
'What are you, my mother?'  
'Seems like you still need one.'  
'Oh? Does that mean I get to call you mommy in front of the others?'  
'So help me if you do…'  
'Ha-ha! Hey Beach! Guess what Prowl's new nickname is!'  
'JAZZ! Get back here!!'_  
Jazz sighed in contentment; how he missed his bondmate. He knew his odds of getting out of this situation alive and it wasn't very high. His only hope might be the Autobot's coming en masse or there was one other option, but he would rather die than see it come true.  
Barricade didn't do something without a reason. He always had a way of getting what he wanted too, without doing much at all. He had done his work, now he was waiting for the benefits.  
Jazz knew exactly what those were as well.

Barricade wanted Prowl.  
And as much as Prowl was afraid of Barricade, he wouldn't abandon Jazz to a fate like this; a fate worse than death.  
That's what the evil Decepticon wanted. He wanted Prowl to come to his bondmate's aide; to save him- at any cost. Said cost probably being Prowl fulfilling his worst nightmares and, once again, being forced to submit to Barricade's will. It would be just like last time; his beloved Datsun being required to humiliate himself and do what he had to do to keep Jazz alive and unharmed. The Porsche would rather die than see that happen; than see Prowl so scared and filled with pain.  
Realizing it had been a while since he checked his surroundings, he decided to take a chance and online his visor. When it powered up as much as the broken transparasteel, all he could see was different dimensions of red and yellow. Barricade got a paintjob?  
He looked up through cracks and blurs, squinting his optics hard to figure out who was holding him.  
He took a shot. _"B…Bla...B-Blaster?"_  
Blaster and Ratchet both looked to the drowsy and delirious mech in the stereo's arms. Ratchet breathed a deep sigh of relief that Jazz was at least able to reboot himself into consciousness, Blaster immediately grinned at his friend. Gently, and without pressing against the sore nerve cables of the open armor plating of both him and Jazz, the stereo hugged his friend closely.  
"Hey sleepin' beauty, glad to see your awake!" he all but cried, very pleased seeing his crush awake. Jazz exhaled a breath he didn't know he had held, too relieved about being with his friends again and not Barricade. He rested his head against Blaster's chest; tired and happy. Though he wondered how Blaster had gotten caught up in the horrible situation, he was a little grateful that his long-time friend was there to comfort him. But how he wished to be in his bondmate's protective arms; safe and sound in the Ark with this nightmare behind him.  
Using his sensors to locate Ratchet, he turned his head to look in the direction._ "R-Ratch, what's b-been goin' on?" _Jazz asked weakly; he wanted to know if he had missed something important.  
The medic flashed his good optic to Blaster, who had a guilty face on. "I want to know that too. Blaster, how did they get you? Surely with two missing, Red and Optimus must have forbid anyone leaving the Ark except for rescue efforts."He pointed out. Jazz looked up at Blaster with an easy smile. _"Nice goin', man. Ya zoned out again, huh?"_ The Porsche teased in good humor. The stereo laughed a little, having the grace to look embarrassed.  
"Maybe just a little." Blaster admitted bashfully, he then turned to look downwards to Jazz with a slight serious expression. "Prowl's drivin' himself mad, he looks like he's gonna have a spark-attack and Optimus won't let him come look for you."  
Jazz perked at the name of his bondmate, Ratchet nodded. "He'll need Prowl to stay to coordinate Rescue operations and keep the peace."  
Jazz was about to speak, but a malice-drenched voice interrupted him. "Keep the peace? Now do tell me how Prowl will managed that when he's too busy keeping your comrades inside of your base. That and trying to keep his sanity." The voice sneered.  
The trio looked up into the doorway; the door had been opened and shut so silently, none had even noticed. Ratchet moved closer to Blaster's front, Jazz couldn't suppress a whimper as he shrunk back into the red and yellow chest; Blaster saw this and instinctively tightened his arms.  
Barricade smiled and stepped towards them, his fangs glinting in the dimmed light. The four blood-red optics fixed on the shaking body of Jazz, feasting on the sight of the Porsche's fear. "Hello my pet, want to play some more?" Barricade sang, his hypnotic voice enticing the three's audios to listen further.  
Blaster growled as Barricade came within spitting distance, Ratchet moved to defend his comrade despite the fact that Barricade could kill him at this point with one shot.  
The Saleen grinned, "Come now, Jazz, I want to play again."  
Ratchet lunged at the black mech, trying to at least get a punch in. Barricade, though, was too fast for the injured mech to keep up with. He had grabbed Ratchet by the arm and slipped his other arm around the medic's waist. In a fluid movement; the Decepticon had turned him around in his arms- to face the other two. Ratchet struggled to remove himself from Barricade's grasp, his injuries made it all the more difficult for him to move around; as limited as the space in the crushing embrace was. The mech behind him snickered, his hand crushing the medic's wrist as it pulled at the appendage. Blaster was debating if it would be foolish to charge the Decepticons- he could kill Ratchet in one move- then there was Jazz…  
Barricade watched the mech in his arms squirm; rubbing his white and red body against his ebony one in a futile effort to gain freedom. He snickered and moved his head to lie next to Ratchet's; pressing his face to the wires in his neck and closing his optics, all the while- pulling the CMO's arm out of its socket. Ratchet screamed and kicked, trying to get free. His screams stopped when he felt a slick glossa slide up his Energon-stained cheek. Barricade was licking him! The medic felt disgusted, especially when Barricade's claws started to make their way down his body from his waist.  
_"S-stop."_  
The four optics opened halfway, the smile still there even with his tongue on the medic's cheek. Jazz was pulling himself from Blaster's arms, despite the effort the stereo was making to keep him safe. The weak Porsche still had enough strength to push Blaster off of him; making contact at the wounds in his upper chest, enough to paralyze him for a few seconds. Barricade in turn ejected the mech in his arms. Ratchet landed on the floor on the arm that Barricade had disabled; he gave a yelp of pain before he was able to see Jazz staggering out the door with Barricade right behind him. The Saleen turned to close the door with a face of triumph.

All three of them were pushed inside the chamber by unforgiving hands. Before they even had time to groan, they were hauled upward by the chains on their cuffs. They were separated to the 3 walls- to keep them from tag-teaming. Skywarp snickered; pulling out a length of thick cable. He stalked predatorily towards the confused Smokescreen with a glint of sadism in his optics. Thundercracker twirled a dagger in his hands- looking at the writhing Sideswipe on the floor; his hands tied back, his legs cuffed together to prevent any kicks of sort, and a gag over his mouth to prevent any backtalk. Oh, how the blue seeker's mind was generating all the ways to get back at this mech for all his 'Jet Judo'.  
"My, my, how unfortunate for you that your brother isn't here; you'll just have to take punishment for the both of you." Thundercracker sneered, kneeling down to lodge to dagger blade into the red warrior's shoulder.  
Starscream pushed Inferno to the back of the room to a large throne-like chair. He stopped to pull the handcuffs of the fire engine's hands.  
"Hm, captured so easily…and here you are- the one sworn to protecting a certain S.D." he snickered when Inferno started shivering in anger. "And you are able to do that how? I'm curious; how is it that you can make Red Alert feel safe when you cannot protect yourself? Red must sleep _so_ well knowing you're by his side, right?" The seeker smiled as he managed to un-cuff Inferno; only to have the larger mech turn and try to grab him by the neck. But the seeker was slightly faster; he kicked the Fire truck hard in the chest- shattering his glass frame and landing him on the throne. The pain in his chest distracting him, Inferno didn't notice when Starscream walked to his side and flipped a switch on the wall. Instantly- restraints snaked across his wrists and ankles. Inferno grunted as he pulled and twisted; attempting to get out of the heavy iron bindings. The seekers smiled, reached down, and pulled the red mech's chin to look at him.  
Red optics met blue ones in a clash of ferocity. "This is going to be fun…"  
oooooooooooooooooooo  
He nearly gagged as a smooth glossa entered his mouth and brought with it a surplus of disgustingly sweet flavors. Claws ran over his aching and beaten body; touching sensitive places that could not be enticed. His lips were finally freed, and he jerked out of the grip that held his face. He heard a laugh. "Ah, it is so much like our last meeting, eh, Porsche?" he smiled.  
Jazz refused to look in his direction; he wouldn't give Barricade the satisfaction of it. A sharp hand delved into the wiring that was displayed from the opening in his midsection. Another hand grabbed his horn and yanked him to look into his face. "I asked you a question, Autobyte, answer it."  
Jazz remained silent; but to stop the pain rippling from his wound, he nodded.  
Barricade's cheery smile returned as if a terrifying and dark expression had never taken hold of the Saleen's face.  
Now the Mustang practically had a song in his voice. "It is! I remember how easily it was for me to get you alone…to charm and seduce you- you either are a whore or your precious bondmate hadn't touched you in a while…" He said the last part, almost thoughtful. "He warned you too, he knew me- he tried to get you away, but you didn't listen. You yelled at him, but still he tried!" Barricade laughed. "How a simple argument with him could damn you!"  
Jazz glared at him; unwanted memories resurfacing from the time he and Barricade had first met.  
"In my defense- I'm pretty petty when I'm mad and I thought you were a refugee from Cybertron." He muttered, though Barricade didn't even hear it- he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts.  
"And despite all of it; he came for you. I remember his begging, too; how he was on his knees pleading for your safe keeping- At any cost…"  
Barricade's eyes got dreamy. "After all that time; he still tasted so sweet. Nothing had changed; his delicious tears as they fell in rivers, his warm blood as it leaked onto my hands, those absolutely angelic screams…yours are almost as lovely…so beautiful he is…"  
The saboteur wanted to purge, but had nothing left in his barren tanks to heave. How dare Barricade talk about his bondmate, as if his spark were something to be toyed with then thrown away when it broke!  
"Too bad for you…" Barricade looked at him now, "That Prowl won't be joining us this time. Optimus needs him too much; he'll send others instead!"  
Barricades fangs appeared as a cold, evil smile took hold of his lips. Dread coursed through Jazz like a rapid virus. _No. No!_  
"The 'others' have already arrived; yes your dear friends…er…forgive me: I'm not too good with names. The red twin, the Lamborghini?"  
_'Sideswipe…'_  
"And your security director's bondmate; the fire engine with the accent?"  
_'No,I-Inferno…'_  
"Oh and the oldest Datsun, the blue one with the bad smoking habit?"  
_'Smokescreen, too…'_  
Barricade nodded, "Yes, they all arrived some time ago; my seeker companions are dealing with them. Now let's see here: You, the medic, the stereo, and those three…Six Autobots in all." The Saleen leered over the wide-opticed Jazz. "More than enough for another rescue operation. And this time- I do believe we'll have the guest of honor finally arrive."  
Jazz challenged. "And if he doesn't?"  
A Cheshire grin spread, his ruby optics gleaming, claws flexing as they reached to stroke the tear stained cheek.  
"I don't think dear Prowl will be able to stay away once I give his lover a countdown."  
He gulped, a shudder rippling through him. Like he had to ask:  
"A countdown to what?"  
Lips brushed his audio receptor in a whispering threat. "Until your death."


	5. En Masse

Optimus sat back in his chair; unable to continue to work when his mind couldn't focus on the writing. It hurt. Primus, it hurt. Knowing, that as leader, his soldiers were his responsibility and the fact that six of them were in dire threat made him feel like a failure. What's worse; their loved ones were also being affected by their absences. Ironhide was taking it in stride, though, confident that Ratchet was tough enough to take care of himself. But Optimus had known the red mech long enough to know that at least a small part of the mech held worry over his bonded. Sunstreaker had become even more hostile (if it were possible), Red had all together become a phantom; locking himself in the security room and only coming out for Energon when it was absolutely necessary.

But what pained him the most was watching Prowl slowly deteriorate to a shaky, agitated mess. He knew why; when the Autobots had rescued Jazz and Prowl from their last encounter with the Decepticon, Barricade; Jazz had been stripped of his armor in some parts all the way down to his endoskeleton, his optics had been split and mutilated, he had been debased, beaten, and tortured both mentally and physically. Prowl had sustained some injuries- but his major wound had been to his Spark. He had watched the being he loved with all his might get hurt in front of him, because of him. The Datsun had been sure Jazz would never want to be near him again, that Jazz would abandon him like Barricade had. Of course, if the tactician would have cleared his CPU for a few seconds and realized that it was Jazz who he was dealing with, he would have felt stupid for such a belief. Jazz never abandoned anybody- no matter what.

Optimus smiled to himself; thinking fondly of his Saboteur. He could only think of a smile and slang-filled speech. He had been with Jazz for a long time, dating back to when the Porsche was barely a sparkling. Optimus closed his optics and reminisced.

_Fire raged and consumed like an ever growing monster, devouring all it could. Screams and shouts lit the night in a melody of horror and fear and explosions flashed in the distance; all to add back to the hungry hell that began to corrupt the city in total chaos._

_He was running swiftly and silently, his team following. A black fortress looming before them in brooding calmness claimed the horizon; their destination. It was quick like lightning- the bomb was set in place on the outer wall, the countdown commencing, and the detonation erupting like the thunder. There was no point to being silent any longer, they stormed inside with their blasters charged and aimed for anything that they perceived as a threat. He motioned for his team to fan out once the enemy mechs had been either eliminated or neutralized. He watched down the hallway tiredly; seeing the dozens of femmes, younglings to elders, standing fearfully and nervously- watching the scene. It was truly a filthy place._

_Decepticons agents spent their time off at places like these, but it was maintained by neutral mechs who fed off the power of the purple-marked army. They took innocent people and forced them to perform such an unwanted act._

_One of his team members walked to them and explained the circumstances as he led them outside to be brought to the Autobot base camp; they would be safe to recuperate there. He stood and waited as the mass exited- clinging to each other and glancing to him with grateful eyes. Some smiled, some nodded, and a few mothers even told their children to bow slightly in his wake. He watched their leave before he turned to look back down the barren hallway. He glanced back to the mechs on their knees, their hands on their heads, hatred and leaking Energon in their eyes. Giving the command to have them led out, he monitored their every move until he could see them do so no more. With a deep, heavy sigh, he faced the corridor again and began to carefully saunter down the littered walk._

Optimus had been young then, when the war had first broken out into a fiery plague. It had been a night that would change his life, though he had not thought of it as much then. Though he still retained the horrifying visions that would occasionally haunt his dreams, there were some sights that stood above the rest.

_Shrapnel, scrap metal, glass, and pools of mixed fluids; it made him want to wretch. Looking left and right at the thick, steel doors- seeing some opened and closed, he stopped and examined one. It was an open door and, despite the material it was made of, had rows of claw marks on the backside. He looked into the abyssal darkness of the room; no windows, small confines with no room to breathe, absolutely no hope for salvation in any one corner. He dared himself to flip on his illumination, and regretted it._

_At first he thought it was just a pile of scrap metal similar to what plagued the floor. A better look showed it was so much more. A long-since deceased femme lay in a puddle of her own blood, her helm crushed, her limbs mangled and almost torn completely off, her torso wiring wrenched painfully outward; spilling her intestines onto the ice cold tiles. He crouched besides her, saying a prayer to Primus asking that her soul be at peace. She was lying on her side facing away from him; he turned her onto her back so he could lift her and take her body away from this place- to clean her and give her the proper burial she deserved for bearing such a horrible fate. He stared in utter sickness before standing and rushing to the hall. He made it in time, clicking his mask off and coughing a few times before he purged. She had been so young to have such a monstrous, disgusting practice forced upon her. How could a Decepticons- how could anybody?! It was horrible, and he truly wanted to cry for her. For her suffering, for her imprisonment, for her untimely and undeserved death. It was cruel- to know that not even the young and innocent were safe in this war._

Young and innocent. Like so many mechs and femmes that had been drafted into the struggle because of different reasons. It was what Optimus hated most. He knew several mechs onboard the Ark were adolescent- Bumblebee had only recently turned from youngling to full-grown mech. And while he still made a conscious effort to protect his soldiers, he always feared of losing them. War meant death; and even if he tried to keep from doing so, he had become so close to his team. They were much like his own children, each having his own personality and style- individual and unique. When one was hurting or in trouble; he would do anything to help them, when one died, a part of him went along with them…

_He managed to get his tanks under control once more, cycling air to cool his shaken systems- yet he still trembled. He could only imagine her pain and terror in her final moments- it was…utterly spark-wrenching._

_He once more said a word to Primus, begging him to reassure her spark that her death had been justified and her torture avenged._

_It was then- he heard it. It was small, he had to strain to hear it the second time. Chains and scuffling; coming from the door at the end of the long passageway. He stood on shaky but silent legs, drawing his blaster and bringing it to his chest. He took a step, but looked back at the femme; he didn't want to leave her, but he told himself there was nothing he could do but take her damaged body away from here. Drawing a breath, he put his mask back on and plunged into the barely lit walkway, moving to the back. The door was slightly opened- inviting him in with poison promises. He walked slowly with his blaster up and at the ready; reaching outwards to take the door by the edge. With the intent to take revenge for the poor girl, he forced it open and took aim for what was inside._

_Darkness. He quickly switched his lights on again and found nothing more than what he found in the other room, except this time there were a few tools of torture lying on steel tables and there was no dead body. He relaxed only slightly. He took brisk steps into the chamber and wrinkled his nose in disgust- it smelled of death and decay. With a snort, he glanced a 360 scope of the room; figuring that it must have been chains moving on their own- maybe because of the vibrations the explosions outside brought. His spark told him to go retrieve the femme's body and bring it back- it was his duty and the very least he could do for her. Sub-spacing his blaster, he exited._

_But he stopped. For this time it was not just chains rattling, but a small whine accompanied it._

It never ceased to amaze Optimus how close he was to leaving and most likely blowing the building up. It also scared him to know what his team would be like now if he had…

_He abruptly spun around and entered once more, walking around the tables of blood-stained tools. More chains rattling caused his blaster to reappear and incline as he located the source of the sound. He took a brisk stride towards it and aimed his blaster down to the blind spot, where he figured the person or thing making the noise would hide._

_He was right._

_But he didn't fire; instead he blinked in surprise and once more sub-spaced his weapon._

_A sparkling, looking as if he had only seen a few years, was curled up under the table. He trembled and shook in fear and cold, his arms and legs retracted to his body to protect the fragile limbs. Little tears strolled their ways down his cheeks from behind his visor, making his spark wrench. A child? One that had barely made its way out of its mother's nursing? Had these mechs no decency? He wanted to scream, but turned his attention to something shining and pink. The sparkling's wrists and ankles were crying Energon from the cruel metal edges of the cuffs that cut into him and bound him to the corner wall by lengths of rusted chains. His body was beaten and cut, but not seriously hurt. From the looks of things, the mechs who controlled the facility were raising him and training him. He refused to think of what, instead crouching down; as slowly as he could. It didn't help the sparkling any, as he furiously shook and tried to find any means of escape. He quickly put his hands up, showing the little bot that he meant no harm and had nothing that he could use to hurt him. The sparkling stopped his movement other than his shaking as he kneeled before him- gently reaching a hand out. The little infant made a small whine and shrank back a bit, causing his hand to stop a moment before reaching out again and petting the abused helm- careful to avoid the bruised horns than adorned the sparkling's head. The child calmed at the touch, relaxing enough that he could reach the cuffs on his wrists and easily pull them apart, doing the same to his ankles. It was obvious he had some amount of trust from the little thing, as it stopped shaking and even smiled a little- so he decided to take advantage of it. He scooped up the small bot into his arms, cradling him with gentle care. The sparkling whined a bit, but didn't struggle; in fact, the infant snuggled into his arms- obviously enjoying the warmth. He smiled behind his mask and began to walk out from the torture chamber; emerging into the hall. He assumed the child had fallen into recharge, considering how quiet and relaxed he had become- so much so that he had began to muse to himself about what he was going to do with a sparkling. An orphanage? No, in these times- no one was safe, the sparkling would have as just a good a chance if he were on the battlefield. A foster family? Better, but, again, in these times; who could he trust? Sighing, he continued his train of thought, forgetting what he so earlier had made it an imperative to carry out- the femme. Luckily he got a wake-up call in the form of the sparkling suddenly freaking out and struggling. Startled- he looked down to see the little thing desperately trying to break away from him; his petite black hands reaching to the left. Confused as to what the sparkling wanted; he set him down and watched as the bot stumbled a little bit before hurrying through an open door. He immediately recognized the room and raced in after the child. _

_The room reeked of death and blood- a scent that made him want to re-purge. His optics, though, weren't shielded from the sight, but they did witness a scene that was sure to never leave his memory._

"_Mama?" The sparkling called to the femme, his small hands shaking the mangled arm. He sounded desperate and scared. "Mommy?" another shake. "Mommy!" _

_He continued to watch the sparkling as he tried with all his might to revive his fallen mother; tears streaming down his dirty cheeks and his tiny frame shaking yet again. He watched until he could take it no longer, taking two brisk strides before dropping to his knees and touching the sparkling on his head. Its tear-stained face turned to look at him, not moving as both hands cupped his face and brushed the falling tears away. They stayed like that for a moment- not moving, just letting the silence wash over them as if trying to convey to each other their thoughts._

_Sighing, he broke it and slipped the tiny body into his arms; letting the tears splash onto his chest as the little one sobbed and cried._

_He lowered his head to rest next to the black helm's audios, "I'm sorry, but your mother isn't going to wake up. She's dead."_

_A small wail emitted from the child's vocalizer. _

_They stayed like that until the sparkling's whimpers and tears subsided, until his body could do nothing but shake with his grief. Finally, the little one looked up at him, cocking his head a small bit. "Name?" he asked in a weak and quivering voice._

_Quite frankly, he was surprised; he hadn't expected the sparkling to have recovered so quickly. None the less, he smiled, "My name is Optimus, little one. And you are?" He did want to know the child's name out of genuine curiosity._

_The infant smiled a truly dazzling grin. "Jazz!" _

'_Jazz' reached up to pat one of his little hands on his face mask; interested as to why he couldn't see his lip components move. He smiled behind it, getting up and leaving the room again to break for the outside where the sounds of the storm of hell had died to a background noise. He would send someone from his team to retrieve the femme's body. In the mean time- he himself had to see an old friend to repair a now laughing sparkling._

Opening his optics, Optimus still held that smile he had on all those years ago. That had truly been a life-changing day: he had found out later that when Jazz's mother had been taken, she had been pregnant with him and also that the same mechs that took them had killed his father- who had been a recognized Black Ops agent for the Autobot Cause. Jazz's mother had been a Spy, making Jazz genetically bred to be a Saboteur. As Jazz recovered from wounds, torture, and the death of his parents at such a young age; Optimus had become attached to the little ball of energy and laughter. Jazz was, like all sparklings, a symbol of the missing innocence in the world and full of infinite love. But it wasn't just him; his old friends and comrades of the war, Ironhide and Ratchet had, in their own way, had also found something to admire in the giggle-filled black and white. Ironhide especially had a soft-spot for little ones and would frequently play with Jazz. It was Optimus, though, that Jazz had become close to. If Jazz didn't see him every so often; he would become scared and jumpy and would cry until Optimus came for him. In the end, he could not find it in his spark to send the little one away to another home, so he raised the sparkling into a youngling- at that time Jazz decided to take up his parent's legacy and become an Autobot. Optimus had made certain that he had wanted to go through with it; and in the end- sent Jazz to the Academy. He had never been so proud as when Jazz had graduated in the top 10 of his class- meaning he had the privilege of becoming a higher-up right off the bat and also meaning he could work anywhere in Cybertron. The black and white had chosen his guardian's sector to work under, much to his, Ratchet's, and Ironhide's delight. Jazz had worked long and hard to become his Second in Command and to become the Special Ops Head.

It was about that time that Jazz had gone out on a mission and returned so severely hurt that Ratchet feared he would not make it. Optimus had been so furious that he had tracked down the cause of Jazz's injuries. The saboteur's weapon was well maintained, no bugs in his system, all his equipment working fine. But it was then that he found that no gear had caused it; it had been the current tactician's fault. The mech had overlooked such a large amount of vital information, a rookie's mistake, that it had nearly cost Jazz his life and had almost cost the Autobots big time. Optimus had been angry mostly due to the fact that the tactician had been supposedly a professional and had made such a blatant error-to that end, Optimus discharged him without a second thought.

But they had needed a tactician and Jazz needed a partner.

Rumors had been circulated that there was a new recruit in the Autobot Army that was to have been said to hold a super-computer's intellect and the tactical skills of a practiced expert. He had made it a personal mission to track down the mech and draft him immediately. Optimus did so and brought the recruit in to meet him and Jazz, not knowing that doing so changed Jazz's future as well.

The recruit's designation was Prowl.

After assembling a team of the best of all expansions of the Autobot Army, he used their individual skills to launch attack after attack at the opposing forces, and the outcome had been so wonderful that the team made a permanent formation. Mechs from every corner of Cybertron had accumulated to work under the Autobot Leader, gaining the illustrious privilege others dreamed of. It wasn't too long after that that he noticed that his brilliant tactician's optics had found something the obviously liked. Time after time Optimus found Prowl staring at Jazz like he was a wonder, but every time he approached the black and white about it, he seemed to retreat into himself and simply state he is observing the saboteur's behavior like he has supposedly done for all the others. But Optimus had never once seen Prowl stare at anyone else. He kept it to himself and some time later- Prowl was promoted to Second in Command besides Jazz. The leader had figured that the two monochromatic's worked so well together as partners that it would do the rest of the team good to have them both to listen to. But still, every now and then- Optimus would once again catch Prowl staring at Jazz, but never once did he bring it up again, hoping, that in time, Jazz would see it too.

He didn't, but it worked out anyway. Jazz and Prowl eventually got together and no longer did the tactician look at Jazz with longing. Granted, it took a deranged Decepticon and torture to make them see their love for each other, but they were happy all the same.

Though now, happy was not exactly abundant in the withering Datsun, as the object of his affection and adoration was in the hands of a madmech. One that had a personal vendetta against Prowl.

But he himself could not say that he was happy either; the sweet little sparkling he raised into a kind and strong mech was in danger, and he would be damned to the Pit if he would allow anyone to hurt him.

Determined, he focused his optics on the abandoned data-pad and began to shift the roster around to keep a few mech stationed at the Ark. Then he began forming a team and a battle plan- resolute to bring the missing home.

--------

It couldn't go on anymore. Six of their men were now missing and presumed captured. Huffer was ranting that they were dead, only angering Sunstreaker and Ironhide to the point where it took half the crew to pry them off the mini-bot before they killed him. Prowl was sitting behind his desk- a data-pad in his hand. He could still only barely keep down Energon and what little recharge he could manage was plagued with visions of his previous torture and the many versions of the death of his current bondmate. He sighed shakily; five days had passed since he last saw Jazz and it had worn the tactician down to an emotional wreck. And soon after Ratchet, Blaster, Inferno, Sideswipe, and Smokescreen joined him; wherever he may be.

Wherever he may be indeed.

The Datsun re-read the data pad, his optics falling over the haunting, medieval-like cursive that formed the letters:

'_He has until dawn in two days. Don't keep him waiting for a final goodbye.'_

There was no signature. There didn't need to be; he knew who it was from- he knew the curvy writing. He knew the only mech to have a vendetta upon his bondmate was behind this. There were no directions. There was no need for them; he only needed to drive around a while before they found him like they found the other six. And then…

Prowl had to cycle a few breaths of air to try and calm his raging systems, closing his eyes and leaning forwards onto his propped hand.

His memory unconsciously conjured up the voice of his bonded. '_Its over- you're safe, as long as Im around- he ain't goin anywhere near ya.' _He heard the promise enter his mind once more, the one that always helped him sleep at night.

But no.

Jazz wasn't around.

He was in trouble in an impenetrable fortress with one of the most psychotic and cruel Decepticons in the entire opposing fleet.

Barricade had finally won.

'_He's…insatiable…He'll never stop until he has me' _tears welled up behind his optics '_he'll keep hurting others…he'll kill them unless I-'_

The Datsun's fearful pondering was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door.

Prowl wondered who would be up so late besides him; it was well past midnight- and as the Ark had adapted to the Earth's rotation timing, most would be well recharging. Before he could say a word, the door swished open, revealing a somber looking Red Alert. To say that Prowl was surprised to see him was an understatement; the tactician had thought that Red had dissolved into thin air from how little anyone had seen him lately. And now the security director was waltzing into the third's office later than most mechs were even awake. He almost wondered if Red ever slept.

The Lamborghini strolled into his office without a greeting, crossing the small space between them easily.

Prowl pulled himself together. "Red Alert, what can I do for you so late at night?" He really was curious as to why Red would be visiting him of all people. He watched as the red and white mech stared at him- though it seemed like Red was building nerve to say something.

Finally after a few moments of tension-filled silence, Red Alert took a deep breath, shifting his gaze to the floor tiles. "You are…going to go find him?" The Lamborghini asked quietly. Had Prowl not had such finely tuned audios, he most likely would not have heard it. Besides that, it was obvious what the Security Director was asking.

All Prowl could do was nod, not trusting his own voice. "Yes."

"And I suppose Prime knows nothing about this."

"He thinks I am too emotionally distraught to function correctly." Prowl explained, feeling a small pang of fury. Scared and sad as he was, it did nothing to infringe on his work duties.

Again Red Alert stared at him in dreadful silence; this time making the Datsun nervous enough to break the ice on his own. "Why are you asking this, Red Alert?"

This time it was only a pause.

"I want to come with you to find the others."

Prowl raised an optic ridge at the statement. He could understand that Red would want to find his captured bondmate- but since the Lamborghini was the Security Director (and doubled with a paranoid glitch to top it off), the tactician would have thought Red would lean more towards Optimus' plan to go en masse in a few days.

But then again, the prospect for anyone to be away from their bonded for an even a few simple days was a terrifying thought.

"No." The answer awoke Red Alert from his trance. Prowl refused to let other innocent mechs get involved. Barricade would sooner slaughter them when he got his prize.

This answer didn't seem to appease the Lamborghini.

"Prowl, nothing good will come of just you going by yourself!"

"And I suppose you would make up for that?"

"Of course not, but-" Red broke off, turning away to look once again at the tiling. "I-I can't leave him…I have to know Inferno is alright."

"They'd sooner kill you."

Red Alert reinstated their optical lock, "And I would sooner die than be live without Inferno."

Prowl regarded him carefully, knowing that Red had spoken the truth. The S.D. was much like himself; without his bondmate- he would lose the will to live any more. And, in a way, respected that kind of love and commitment. In this situation, Red Alert was one of the few people who could relate to him; could understand what he was going through. It was also evident that the Lamborghini would not take no for an answer, and knowing Red; he would find one way or another to get to his beloved.

With a sigh of defeat, he nodded. "Very well, as long as you realize what dangers await you." Prowl allowed with defeat. Red Alert wore a triumphant, yet faint, smirk; as if he had a feeling that the Datsun would have no choice in the matter all along.

Red nodded, "When do we leave?"

Prowl was silent for a moment as he read over the next day's shifts. "Early, no later than 4 A.M.- we'll have to slip past patrol, but that shouldn't be too difficult. Huffer and Beachcomber will be out then, and knowing the two of them- they wont notice a thing." For that, both mechs were feeling both grateful and nervous for the safety of the Ark, but they would have to trust that Red's autonomous security units could protect the others.

Prowl sighed again and stood to stand by the Lamborghini, "We better get ready."

It had gone unknown to the both of them that the door had been open the entire conversation length, but both had been so wrapped up in their dialogue and the fact that it was so late only contributed. It only resurfaced when they both heard a rustle of shifting metal outside of the doorway.

Prowl's doorwings rose for a moment, "Who's there?" The sound of his voice commanding and direct.

A small squeak sounded before a head poked into the view of the door.

The tactician's doors dropped to a more comfortable position and Red Alert relaxed slightly.

"What do you need Bluestreak?" Red asked him, still tense.

The other Datsun hesitated before stepping into the room, looking nervous and a little embarrassed about being caught. But unlike Red, came right out with his point.

"I want to come with you."

Prowl was particularly protective of his youngest brother- even if they weren't related by blood. Blue was just too gentle and kind, Prowl didn't like the fact that he was even in the war, let alone going on a dangerous mission like this.

He shook his head, "Out of the question, Blue, you will stay here." He said, crossing his arms defiantly.

But apparently the gray mech had heard that Red's persistence had won out with the tactician and was determined to do the same.

He took another step towards his older brother. "You need all the help you can get, Prowl. And besides," Bluestreak looked into the ice-colored sapphire optics of the taller "those guys are my friends too, I want to help them!"

"At the cost of your own life?" Red Alert asked.

Blue looked at him for the first time, pausing before nodding. Both mechs turned to look back to Prowl- who was breaking down, wanting so badly to go as soon as possible to find his mate.

Blue reached up to put a hand on his shoulder which was tense and rigid. The touch destroying what little resistance the black and white had left.

"Fine."

It was still dark by the time they started to make their way out; sub-spaces full of Energon for themselves and for the captured, knowing the Decepticon's work and also that their beloveds would be drained of energy. Their weapons maintenanced and loaded, though Prowl knew they wouldn't make it to the Con's base.

They all were quite skilled in stealth- moving about to many halls of the Ark, making no noise. The Datsun wondered how a mech like Jazz, a lover of sound and music, could manage to be so quiet all the time. He refused to give it much more thought; thinking of his lover would only make him depressed.

Depression was replaced by surprise when they exited the Ark; for they had a greeting party at the ready.

"Goin' somewhere, fellas?" a southern-laced drawl escaped the pair of glowing optics to the left. The other two, one set glowing behind a transparasteel visor, the other lit by rage and bloodlust stood behind him. It wasn't too hard to match them.

"We are being sent on a reconnaissance mission to scope out the Decepti-"

"Shut it, Red, we know where you're headed and you're taking us with you." The angry pair of optics snarled in an even angrier voice.

Prowl regarded them, his patience waning with every minute.

"There's no need for anger at us, Sunstreaker." He lit his headlights to look at them more clearly. "Ironhide, Skyeraider." He nodded to the other two.

Sighing, he let his head drop, "I suppose you three are either here to stop us or to join us." He estimated.

A femme giggled, "Take a guess, Prowlie."

Prowl winced at the nickname his lover had bestowed upon him, what he wouldn't do to hear it in his mocking voice again. Blue piped up at last, "Hide and Sunny, I can understand, but why are you coming, Skye?"

The femme smiled, putting her hands on her hips, "Just seems like you boys could use a extra set of hands."

Prowl shook his head, and heard Sunstreaker groan. "Are we going or not?!"

'_He must be desperate to find Sideswipe. Like Im desperate to find Jazz.'_ He thought to himself, it never ceased to amaze him how much Sunny and Sides hid their affection behind threat and violence. But such are the twins, he supposed.

He nodded with a faint smile, "Let's go."

Transforming into their alt.s, they quickly drove top speed away from the Ark into the dark morning desert.

Prowl knew it would only be a matter of time before they were detected and abducted; and then, his spark pulsed, he could see Jazz again.

'_Hold on, Jazz, I'm coming! Don't give up, Love! Please, __**please, **__don't give up!'_

COMMENTARY BOX- I don't know, I guess I've always kinda viewed Jazz as the emotionally strong one in his and Prowl's relationship. I mean he's gotta go through hell if he gets captured and the D-con torture him right?

And can anyone guess where Optimus was when he found Jazz? That's right kiddies. It was a whore-house (not that the femmes had any choice it the matter. They were kidnapped and put to work, so were the children captured)

BTW- the fic I wrote 'Love' was a spin off, it was similar- but in B+B Jazz and Prowl met under different circumstances.


	6. Search

Damn it all, I knew it was a bad idea for me to let Sides go without me; I always have to save his aft when he gets in too deep. And with Ratch and Jazz and Blaster out of the Ark, it's the quietest it's ever been (aside from Wheeljack's explosions) and I can tell it's unnerving everyone. We're all so used to Jazz and Blaster deafening us with their music and Ratchet spewing curses as loud as his vocalizer allows him and threatening to turn me and Sides into femmes- not the good kind neither, like Elita - no, the annoying, prissy weaklings that complain too much. Sideswipe said I'm already prissy and complain too much, but I don't see it.

At least Prowl seems to be on the same page as me- he's speeding, which for his is like Jazz with no music; unheard of.

Ok, I'll admit it- I miss the guy, but after all Jazz has done for me and Sides (not to mention over half the Ark) it's hard not to. Wouldn't really mind hearing a threat against my well-being right now, no one's yelled at me for a little under a week- With Ratchet missing and Prowl acting like Red during one of his glitch attacks.

I can remember before Prowl and Jazz bonded, when we we're still on Cybertron. Well, I remember what the other's told me…

Apparently, me a Sides' creator was horrified by our bond- that our sparks were just one split in half- anyway; he (or she) abandoned us in an alley in the bad part of the city we lived in, and left us to die. Thankfully, a kindly old mech found us before we died and decided to take us home with him. He got us better, raised us, and even went and tracked down our creators- But when the guy tried to ask why they left us, they told him that we were abominations and that he should have let us die in that alley. He still kept us, but told us what happened to our parents once we were old enough. He named us a little later in our lives because he never could think of a name suitable enough. One day - he found them; for me- Sunstreaker; for my bro- Sideswipe. Ever since, those have been our names. (Of course he saw fit to give us nicknames- Sunny and Sides…)

So me and Sides grew up together as brothers and twins Yeah, I said- Sides is the closest person to me in the world; and I know I'm going to regret saying this, but I wouldn't want another partner or brother, Sideswipe's a good warrior (and has occasionally saved my aft), But then again, he'd have to be to be related to me, right? And those fraggin' Con's have got him now- whatever, Sides doesn't go without a fight, I bet he gave them a run for their money.

Well, anyway- If they hurt him; they'll have me to deal with and I'll give them a fight they won't forget…

But as I was saying, it was about the time that Sides and I could walk and talk and think for ourselves that the Decepticons attacked our city. Our caretaker, a worker mech named Diaxon, tried to get us away. The Con's would kill mechs like him and would take us to be raised as their soldiers. He managed to get a long way past the city when a stray shot blasted the foundation columns of one of the buildings we were hiding in, and it partially collapsed. Sides and I got pushed away from a collapsing pillar that was going to fall on us by Diaxon.

He was crushed instantly- but not dead.

Sides and I tried to help him, but we were just younglings, we didn't know what to do. So we stayed like that; surrounded by rubble under an unstable building with the only person who ever cared for us dying slowly. But like before, our cries caught attention, and we were found like that by two mechs with red faces on them. We had seen those faces before- they were symbols.

Me and Sides were too little to know, so we assumed that these two- one tall red, silver, and blue mech with a face-guard, and strong-looking the other a red and silver with a crest running the length of his red helm- were with the mechs that has blasted at us and caused our guardian to be crushed. So we charged at them, and didn't make it too far. The two caught us kicking and flailing with tears streaming. We struggled - biting, scratching, kicking; anything we could. We screamed as the taller mech walk towards Diaxon, saying something to him. Sides and I were too hysterical then to figure out what they were saying but after a while the taller masked mech turned and nodded to the mech holding us, who put us down. We immediately ran to Diaxon and the taller mech backed off a little. He looked up at the two mechs as they converged on us. I can remember the conversation: Diaxon was convincing the mechs to take us away. As much as we begged for him- when the two picked us up, he would not even attempt to move. And that's the last we saw of him.

After that, Optimus and Ironhide managed to get us to their base where an old and kind (only for younglings) medic by the name of Ratchet, cared for us. We didn't speak, we didn't eat or sleep- we just kinda sat there; comforting each other over our link. The older mechs gave up on us. Leaving us alone for a while, or so we thought.

It really didn't take us long to notice that there was somebody looking at us, or at least I didn't- I remember looking up from Sides and looking at my reflection.

And that took me a while to figure out, or at least it would have if it didn't start to talk to me. It asked us if we were ok. Right then, it poked its head up a little more- it was an older youngling sitting at the foot of the berth. The reflection being the visor he wore over his eyes. When he stood to full we saw another red-faced symbol. An Autobot. (Well one in training at that time)

Black helm, two horns, black and white paintjob with hints of red and blue. He talked to us for a while, said his name was Jazz, said Optimus had wanted him to take care of us. Jazz stayed with us for the time that we needed him, he always had a bright smile and an easy-going attitude that made it simple for us to trust him. I don't really know much after that- only that me and Sides woke lying curled up next to Jazz, and feeling…safe.

I donno, we just lived at that base with Jazz for a long time. No matter where we went, it was always with him. I can't remember if they tried to find us another home or what, but even so- Sides and I went on to join the Autobots. Mostly to take revenge on those damn Con's who killed Diaxon, but in a small part; I think it was also so that we could stay with Jazz, who we had grown very attached to. And yes, when all of us became full grown mechs; Sides and I had a crush on him, seriously, it was hard not to. Have you ever spent five minutes with him? He's got something that just makes him great to be around. And that's coming from ME.

But I guess we should have known it wouldn't work. But I'm still reeling- Prowl?! It was hard enough imagining them being friends, but bonded…it's in a league of its own.

Now, he's in trouble with some kinda sick mech who wants him dead and Prowl for his own- Like that's going to happen ( Prowl will kill him if he's lain a hand on his Porsche). But not only Jazz, but my brother and a whole bunch of guys who need a hand. We wont leave them, I wont leave Sides; I promised.

I'll take these Decepticons down myself if I have to. Nobody hurts my brother and lives, nobody.

---

The Energon dripping into one eye and a severe cut under the other made it difficult to see anything more that blurred images. Pain laced every limb, every circuit. It hurt like slaggin' hell! They had literally snapped off his rocket launcher, slashed his hood just above his spark chamber, and Barricade had a go at his midsection with those claws of his. '_Sunny damn well be getting here or otherwise he won't be a 'twin' for very much longer…' _He groaned.

Sideswipe's strength had long since left him, but as yet another vicious slash of a whip marred his legs, he instinctively tried to curl up- only to be restrained by the ever holding cuffs that held his wrists and legs. He bit his lip; adding to the multiple gashes that he had left there already. It was more than he could take: he had already lost so much Energon- it pooled around him in a warm puddle, but with every lash, a new cut spilled forth his liquid life. The red warrior had all but lost count of the number of times the malicious crop had cut his skin open, all he knew was that if it didn't stop soon, he would die. Sideswipe had long since kept his optics tightly shut to prevent the tears from spilling forth, and after being beat into a delirium, he opened them when a hand untied his gag, allowing his mouth to move freely again.

"That's better; I want to hear you scream so loud, your brother will hear you."

Starscream, of course. Before Sideswipe could so curtly reply- another lash came. And another, and another, and another…never once missing its agonizing tempo. The Lamborghini didn't know how much more his lip could take before he bit it into chunks. After a couple more unbearable moments- they ceased, although- for Sideswipe, it took a few moments for the pain ebb away for him to notice. He kept his head downward, thinking Starscream might be trying to get him to look up so that he could do to Sideswipe what Barricade did to Jazz when they last met. But instead a finger hooked under his chin and made him look up the best he could. When that wasn't satisfactory- Starscream kicked his chest right on his wounds and forced him to lie on his back. He groaned in discomfort; hearing the seeker sitting down beside him and casually start stroking his yet-to-be-damaged helm. The red twin wanted to jerk out of the touch, but doing so would only ensure more pain to his already aching body; so he lay still.

"Barricade had informed me that Prowl has been a bad mech and, instead of coming alone, has brought a little band of Autobots with him, he's such a coward- he can't face his fate on his own without his bonded to hold his hand." Sideswipe could only imagine the sneer on the seeker's face right now.

"I…I wouldn't…be smiling at that…Sunny's with…with them, isn't he?" he managed between inhales of cool air.

He could HEAR the smile in Starscream's voice. "Yes he is, my little nuisance. Ripe with that temper he can't control. He won't get very far though, none of them will. Well, except Prowl."

Before he could respond, he was lifted upwards into the seeker's arms. Because of the pain- the Lamborghini could scarcely move other than a small whimper. He heard Starscream take a few steps before lowering him onto a cool, metal surface; the jet kept his top half up while he reached around and undid the bindings on his arms. He was lowered down before he felt the restraints on his legs come off. As much as the relief was helpful, it was suspicious and the fact of where he had been laid was all the more reason for his worry. Starscream was seriously not thinking of- no; Sunstreaker would kill him for sure (if he wasn't already going to) Sideswipe's pain-filled body began to tremble, he wouldn't be able to fight the seeker off or defend himself should the Decepticon do what Sideswipe was thinking of. But all that came was a laugh and more casual petting to his helm.

"Don't think that I would lower myself to molesting you, Autobot- you're hardly even worth it. The only pleasure I would get out of it would be the look on your precious brother's face once he saw my work." The petting ceased.

"All I did was spread you out so there was more for me to torture."

The whipping began again- this time Sideswipe couldn't hold back his screams.

---

Primus, I can't believe we let this go on for so long! Those poor guys- being at the mercy of Decepticons- what could be worse? Oh yeah, on of them is a deranged psychopathic interrogations officer who thinks Jazz stole Prowl away from him. I can understand that Prowl would want his bonded back, but he shouldn't have come now that I think about it. Me and Red should have tied him up in his office or something and gotten others to help us; I'm sure Mirage, Hound, maybe Wheeljack and Brawn would help. Brawn likes to fight and the others would jump at the chance to help the others.

It never ceases to amaze me how close the crew of the Ark has gotten- we've all gone beyond just a bunch of mechs working together- we've become like family. Brothers, parents, friends, and sometimes even loves all on one spaceship. For me, I have two brothers, Smokescreen and Prowl, and many others who are like brethren to me. Primus, though, I still can't bear the thought of someone hurting any of them. Jazz, who has always been like a creator to me, Sideswipe, Smokescreen, and the others, too; I really hope their okay.

It hurts to see Prowl lose his cool like this- he's always so…Prowl (He's his own word). He's always been my calm, collected older brother (contrary to Smokey), but I can understand why he's like this. I've seen how much he loves Jazz, I think the whole Ark has, and having him taken away AGAIN was as unbearable as the first time.

I don't know much about this Barricade- I know that he was under Shockwave on Cybertron and that his victims rarely lived unless living tortured them more. He was transferred here under Megatron's command, caught and kidnapped Jazz, tortured him, threatened him against Prowl, hurt them both and-… So many other things.

I'm a little scared; going inside Decepticon territory, invading their base- only six of us against their army. It doesn't matter though; I know that this mission is really just to find them for the sake of easing our consciousnesses. We're taking a huge risk, but we have to; we're Autobots, we don't leave our friends behind.

I can't shake this feeling of fear that we're already too late, and if these guys see their loved ones dead- if I see them dead, I don't think I'd even want to go on being an Autobot anymore. I was just out of youngling hood when I was brought to the Ark, Jazz and my brothers took care of me well, and after all these years of being with them and the others- it would just hurt too much to see them lying on the cold floor; dead.

This nightmare feels like it's been going on for eternity, it's hard to believe last week we were all fine and happy. Twins annoying Ratchet, Ironhide arguing with the mini-bots, Wheeljack still exploding- sounds like home to me. Now the Ark is so quiet, it feels like a crypt compared to what it was. I want it back, we all do.

I don't want to remember Jazz hugging me or Smokescreen convincing me to drink for the first time or Sideswipe and I at the shooting range because I miss them or because I think I'll never see them again. I'm going to help bring them home, where they belong. I'll do whatever it takes to save my brothers- all of them. I'll find Barricade and make him pay for all that he's done to our family.

We've just crossed into their territory.

Let it begin.

---

He couldn't tell if that white femme had left, his optics had taken a pretty heavy damage. Sitting awkwardly like this didn't help the pain in his legs or torso either. Maybe if he wasn't so wounded he could have gotten the tight cables off of him, but as it was, gravity was the only thing that was going to move him.

Smokescreen's spinal systems were also giving him trouble, his doorwings had large chunks missing and his hunched position sitting in the corner didn't help in the least.

'_Damn it all, Optimus better get us out of here before we all die. Poor Jazz…' _He thought to himself, remembering the description of his friend that the white femme had jeered at him while she used her claws to make small but stinging cuts into his face and neck. It was bad enough being blind even if his optics worked, since he was in the dark, but being in a Decepticon torture room with no means of communication to the outside and a number of Autobots dying slowly somewhere ELSE was absolutely eating at him.

A few hours ago (at least that's what he estimated), he and Sideswipe were dragged out of the room that Inferno was left in and separated. Smokescreen had attempted to free himself, but that was when the white femme (he thought he heard Skywarp call he Whitenoise) decided to use that satellite dish of hers to transmit one of her paralyzation waves, and then began her tirade of slicing him like fruit. He couldn't have moved to save his life, but the pain he felt was real as it rippled through his body in sharp little spikes.

The Datsun bore through it, gritting his dentals and clenching his hands tightly- if he gave up, there would be nothing to keep him together. Save for the knowledge that Autobots were on their way (which the femme so gently told him while cutting his optic)

Smokescreen was nervous to say the least. The Decepticons knew that the Autobots were arriving, that was bad. It also meant that there would be a counter attack on them. His processor struggled to remind him that his brother, Prowl, was there and so was Trailbreaker- he hoped, between them, a surefire plan would be generated to get them the hell out of this mess.

Smokescreen also silently prayed that the others onboard the Ark didn't have a betting pool on them. Being abducted by Seekers, how embarrassing…

Unfortunately, until the time when someone cam for him, he would have to wait.

---

This had 'Bad Idea' written all over it, but I'm ignoring that part of me this time. Inferno needs me, all of them need us. I don't like going against Optimus, though; he's usually the only one who will listen to me. However- my bonded is in danger and I won't let him die, even if it costs me my life.

Hmph. I actually have Optimus and his little minions, the black and white duo, to thank for introducing and pushing Inferno and I together. Even though those two themselves weren't together.

Since, as Security Director, I was in danger of being captured on the battlefield and interrogated- Prime and his advisors decided that I needed someone to prevent that. Optimus assured me he knew that I would never willingly part with any information that could be used against the Autobots, but Jazz could tell you that Shockwave has ways to find out regardless. And that's when we recruited a large, grinning red mech by the name of Inferno. Strong, brave, and infinitely patient with me, despite my mood. He caught my optic immediately, but protocol (and Prowl) prohibited such antics. It didn't take much for Inferno to start considering us friends, but I was still beyond that. And, of course, no secret is safe from the Ark's resident saboteur (AKA- the audios in the wall). HE has ways to find out things, too, yet he still hadn't noticed Prowl's silent regards. (Everyone else had, I mean- the mech was practically screaming that he was in love with his partner. It was a surprise to us when he DID notice)

Jazz approached me and snuck the answers out of me, how, I have no idea- Jazz is…strange. I had begged and pleaded for him not to go gossiping with Blaster and the twins; they would tell Inferno and everything would go wrong. But oddly enough, he just grinned at me like an idiot and said there was no need for him to do so.

My confusion disappeared as soon as Inferno stepped through the door. I could tell by the look on his face- he had heard everything. I thought then and there that the first and only friend in my life would want nothing more to do with me; that he would cast me aside like my creators had. I prayed to Primus that he wouldn't reject me, but I knew he would. Inferno would just laugh at me; tell me I was fooling myself, and that I wasn't worth it. I damned Jazz to the lowest part of the pit for tricking me- because of him I would lose everything save for my job. While horrible visions of our saboteur being tormented flickered through my mind, Inferno decided to make his move. He might have said something- I don't know; I was too busy imagining Jazz getting thrown into a snake pit. And… let's just say it worked out because there were a lot of things that happened next, and most are too embarrassing to say. But he told me he didn't know if he loved me, but he wanted to try and find out.

Unfortunately, after all this- I blacked out. Wish I hadn't. But ever since then, he and I had gotten closer, yet still stayed the same. We would have to tell others we were bonded, they wouldn't know otherwise. And I guess it's thanks to that grinning idiot, Jazz. If only he had seen how Prowl looked at him earlier…

I don't know if Jazz considers me a friend- I'm not sure if anyone besides Inferno considers me anything more than a paranoid glitch, but I know that Jazz and the others are in need of help. It's my job to keep the Autobots safe. And so far, I've failed miserably. But I won't let those blasted Decepticons hurt them anymore, not even if it costs me my life. But before that, I intend to hit Blaster over his head repeatedly for his stupidity. Honestly, does anyone listen to me?!

Prowl's so agitated, he seems scared, uneasy, but judging on how aggressively he's driving- I can tell he's angry. I don't blame him; this is the second time Jazz has been taken and probably tortured… I wonder is Prowl's anger is directed and Barricade or Jazz. Either way- I'll gladly hit the one that Prowl doesn't beat. Stupid Porsche, foolish Decepticons; Sunstreaker is absolutely radiating bloodlust for his taken brother. This time; I won't attempt to stop his rampage.

I hope you're alright, guys.

---

He stared at the silver rod protruding from his chest; not in his spark chamber, but damn well near enough to cause the pain to wash over his entire being. Not to say that the numerous gashes (especially the large chunk of his leg missing) didn't paralyze him with agony. His wrists and legs bled horribly from the amount of thrashing he had done against his bindings- making his limbs eventually feel stiff and heavy. He kept his head down even though Starscream had left to go torment Sideswipe hours ago.

Inferno could take physical torture; he had gone through it many a time to have it any effect on him. It was the mental torture that made him want to just scream. Starscream had made it his personal mission to make him suffer by smearing his poisonous slander about Red Alert and himself. The seeker had started by informing Inferno that a team of six Autobots were fast approaching the base and among them- Red. Starscream then proceeded to convince him that Red Alert was going to be his reward for his hard work with Jazz- whom he had said was on the very brink of death but Barricade refused to kill him until Prowl was there to watch, that he would make Red Alert his slave and make him scream so loud Primus himself would hear. He then began to twirl a tale of different tortures he would perform on Red all the while torturing him.

He spoke of ripping off Red's armor, piece by painful piece, while using an energon knife to cut and slice his armor and face. The seeker even being so twisted as to jam that rod into his chest and use his own hands to cut Inferno as he pretty much sang of how Red would be his, how they would bond on his grave. That's all that Inferno was focused on at the time; not the agonizing torment of the feeling of warm blood trickling down every part of his being- no, the words, the horrible words that he could not escape was all that rang in his processor. And at that point, all he wanted to do was cut out the Seeker's vocalizer to make the words go away. Needless to say; it scared him. Not only the thought of Red Alert being Starscream's plaything but also the vision of Jazz dying before his bondmate saved him. Inferno hadn't seen it when the saboteur had been brought back from a run-in with Barricade. But from what he had heard from the others who had rescued them; it was like Jazz had been thrown in the middle of a demolition derby and then thrown to the Earth from the atmosphere. Some grimly joked that a mech like that would look a lot better than how Jazz appeared when Ratchet was screaming to everyone to move out of his way and for Perceptor and Wheeljack to assist him as soon as they finished repairing Prowl and the others.

And now it was all happening again. Inferno snorted; if Prowl didn't kill Barricade for what he's done to Jazz and Red Alert got harmed- he would more than gladly do the job for him.

Damn, it was too quiet! The seekers had taken Smokescreen and Sideswipe away after they had arrived and received a few wounds. He had yet to see Jazz, Blaster, or Ratchet. Or the mysterious Barricade. It was beginning to annoy him; the fact that he was helpless and vulnerable while others were dying slowly and his bonded was waltzing into a trap. Another thing Starscream had told him was that Barricade had anticipated yet another rescue that would more than likely involve Prowl; and that would be expected and easy to counter. He wanted out! He wanted to find that cowardly seeker and bash his head in- then track down his friends, get out of there, meet the others and go home to a nice, soft berth. This sitting thing was killing his spinal system.

Inferno at least wanted something to happen so he would know what was going on, not just sit in the dark and only guess. But as far as he knew, the next thing that was going to happen was Prowl and the others arrival. He just prayed to Primus that no harm would come to them, that it would all work out, that they all would be safe soon.

Until then, he could only wait in shadows and hurt.

---

Don' think Ah've ever seen Prowl like this b'fore; real desperate an nerv's- he's always been that calm one in our group, the root of sanity for us. Always been quiet n' stubborn, that guy, but that kinda died when Jazz came inta the picture for him. Guess it just struck 'im one day- must've seen Jazz as the prettiest damn thing in the world, but that's how it is with love- t's struck meh twice now, so Ah should know. First with Chromia and then with Ratch. Ah know what Prowl's goin' through, though; went through it myself when Ah went lookin' for Chromia. Ah just hope he don' have to through the loss Ah went through when Ah found her dead at my feet. Course there's no way in the pit that anyone could replace her, Ah know she wouldn't want me to just mope about and cry like a sparkling missin' it's toy. So, with my buddies help, Ah coped the best Ah could an' a lil while later- cupid stuck me, as the humans say. N' me an Ratchet've been together since.

Though somethin' in my tanks just tells me that if Prowl loses Jazz, he won' be so lucky. Not that he prolly couldn't find someone else; but the fact is, Ah don' think he's one of them people who can go on after a bonded dies. Ah'm afraid he's gonna off himself or somethin…

Hmph, that Jazz, Sure do miss the lil' fella. Ah c'n recall when he was just a sparklin' – always a ball of endless energy, never figured out where it all came from. Still can't either, but 'is liveliness was prolly one a the things Prowl liked about him. Ah'll admit, that kid grew on me, Ah'm always glad Jazz'd picked our group to work under. Sorta figured he would though- since Prime looked after the lil guy ever since he found him as a baby, was only right for 'im to try and make Prime proud. An Ah know from experience that Optimus loves Jazz, even if he always made it clear he wasn't 'is father. The way he'd protect 'im as a sparklin', or how he taught him to read and write (as ev'ry parent does for their kid) or even that time Jazz came back all bloody like an' Prime exploded all over our tactic's guy. Can't say Ah feel sorray for the guy, (Ah even slugged him good once we were outta there, but then again, so did Ratch)

But no matter what, Prime's always been there for Jazz, heck Ah don' even think he'd care if Jazz had become a 'Con, he'd still be so proud. An now that lil sparklin' of ours's in trouble, so's my bonded and a lot of good mechs an Ah'll be damned to the pit b'fore I let those Decepticreeps get their way an hurt 'em. Ah just hope Prime can fergive me for goin' against him like this. But Ah can't stand back an do nothin' while people Ah care about are bein' hurt, no way. An you can bet Ah'll go through an army of Con's to get em back.

We're on our way guys; just hang on a lil longer.

---

He lay on the floor bleeding; next to him- Blaster, long since passed out from blood loss. The stereo, as Communications Specialist, was not made for battle, thus- his self-repair system was not as active as Ratchet's was. As a medic, his preservation unit worked constantly to mend his wounds the best it could; it was some thing that all medics had, since they were meant to be able to heal on the battle field- their bodies could heal faster than soldier mechs.

Nevertheless, he was still in agony, Blaster may have had more wounds, but his were deeper; wider- his wrenched arm still ached and throbbed. Ratchet was at least grateful that Blaster had managed to remove that collar that had been choking him, but fear plagued him- fear for Blaster's rampant loss of Energon and for Jazz, who had been taken hours before and had yet to return. He remembered when Jazz had been brought to him after that last run in he had had with Barricade; broken, dazed, dripping blood, his internals hanging out, and his optics split open on top of numerous other wounds and gashes. He had thought, for the second time in his life, that Jazz would not live. But he probably should have realized that Jazz would never die so easily; he was tough and strong like his caretakers. Prowl hadn't thought so, he had thought Jazz would die and there was nothing anyone could do.

Ratchet sighed; he heard a pained groan and placed a hand on Blaster's helm.

They needed help- and quickly; if Jazz was not already dead then he would soon be and he and Blaster weren't far behind him. He knew Optimus hadn't forsaken them- Skywarp had jeered at him last time he had been in the torture room that more Autobots had arrived to try and find them. Inferno, Sideswipe, and Smokescreen.

Now (as far as he knew) there were six Autobots there; if that wasn't a call for a charge into D-con territory, he didn't know what was. But then Thundercracker came in to join his wingmate's pleasure and so kindly informed him that another group of six Autobots were on their way. After the seekers had their fun and left him with another aching body, he began to wonder what in the pit Prime was hoping to accomplish by sending a mere six Autobots. Was it a distraction? A trap? The Decepticons hadn't bothered to say which Autobots they were, but Ratchet could already guess a few; Sunstreaker most definitely was there, Prowl, maybe Ironhide and Red? He had no idea about the other two. He just hoped that whoever they were that they would release them all; they needed to get Blaster and Jazz repaired before they ended up dead. Ratchet knew he'd be dead soon as well- but he'd last a little longer than the others. Longer meaning more torture and pain.

He grunted as he shifted position, sitting up when there was a large section of his middle, as he was finding out, was quite uncomfortable. He would have stayed lying down, but the cold was making his wounds throb even more. Ratchet's body was slowly turning pink from all his blood. His head wound was bothering him the most as his eye flickered on and off and his lip components continuously bled, making the taste of Energon fall into his mouth.

It was awful, Ratchet wanted; needed, to help his comrades- but had no such tools, space, or supplies to do so

The waiting was killing him, and the others. All he could do was wait for help to arrive.

**---**

Why? Why does Barricade want me so badly? Why would he want me? I'm nothing special! Yet, here he is; hurting others to get to me. It isn't fair- am I not supposed to have anything? It seems like Primus cursed me before I was even sparked and now my curse, Barricade, has decided to cause me more pain in the form of torturing my loved ones. But why?! Jazz, the others, they have never done a thing! Why does Barricade feel the need to rule my life? I'm bringing the others into danger- that's all I can do, that's all I've ever been able to do. If things don't go according to plan- Jazz will die, they'll all die because of me.

Damn my family for their ideal on breeding! Damn them for selling me to Barricade! Damn HIM for making my life miserable! It isn't fair, why can't he accept that I'll never love him again? He changed so much since Cybertron, he was twisted before- but now, now he's deranged, mad, psychotic…

Everything I have, he feels the need to take away; my family, my home, my sparkling, my dignity and self-respect. And now, my bondmate. This is twice now Barricade has abducted Jazz; twice he's used Jazz to lure me in. I don't know what to do; he won't stop unless he's dead, but I can't kill him, I'm an Autobot. Even if I were to get retribution for all he's done to me, Jazz, and the others, I would have forsaken everything that I hold dear. Not only that, but he still has power over me and I know it- every time I look into his optics, I feel a part of me losing itself. It's because I know I'll never be able to best him, not when he holds all the cards like this. I'm so weak; I can't even defend myself against him, last time Jazz had to do it and now he's nearly blind because of it. I hate this, I hate the fact that, until he's dead, Barricade will never leave me alone.

I don't understand it but I suppose I don't have to; all I have to know is how to get Jazz and the others back. That's my only concern, my only goal. But I know Barricade's waiting for me- he wouldn't have taken all these Autobots NOT to be expecting me to come and get them back. I don't know if that makes it easier of harder. Even if he is waiting, even if it takes me years, I will get revenge. For Jazz, for my sparkling, for all the Autobots he's hurt, and for myself.

The only question is HOW?

He can use the captured as hostages. Can shoot us down out here and keep them as trophies, or capture all of us and use us to get Optimus to pay ransom. 12 Autobots would amount to a lot of Energon if the Decepticons had anything to say about it. I know that this situation that I'm putting us in is one where the Con's control everything, including our lives. The others have faith in me to get their loved ones back; I hope they'll still have faith in me after my plan to get into the Decepticon base works. I hope they trust me afterwards. I tried to convince them not to come, but I wanted to find Jazz so badly, I didn't have time to keep denying their pleads. But I guess that the captured will need help seeing how they are probably heavily injured and unable to move well on their own. I just pray they aren't too far gone for us to save them.

Oh, Primus, I'm just making myself nervous!

But the thought of Jazz being dead – the thought of ANY of them lying cold on the floor with Barricade standing over them, laughing. None of them would forgive me; I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. I already can't, not after what that twisted mech did to Jazz because of me.

Barricade wants me. Maybe I can use that to my advantage, I maybe able to convince him to let the others go back to the Ark and get help. If not, I will have to attempt to take him down for good. It's the others that worry me, they don't understand what Barricade is capable of- what he'll do to get what he wants; me. I'll protect them the best I can, I know what can bend that mad mech. I'm not totally helpless.

My truest and greatest fear is that I have already lost my world.

It won't be long now, Jazz, just don't give up!

**---**

Every cycle of air was laborious; every small movement was pure agony. His tormentor wouldn't leave him be, constantly doing something that harmed him more.

Jazz couldn't tell if there was even a place on his body that Barricade hadn't had a go at yet. What's more, the black Saleen had found that he liked touching the saboteur, either to cause pain or pleasure- at this rate he couldn't tell which the Decepticon was meaning to invoke. He wasn't strapped down anymore but could hardly even move without causing himself too much pain for him to handle. His bloody stump of a hand felt like it was made of stone, his cracked and flickering visor giving him an aching processor, but most of all, the starvation that he felt. Although it paled in comparison to the wounds he bore, the malnourishment was taking its course.

That was still the least amount of Jazz's problems. He had attempted to contact his bondmate several times trough their link, but it was futile. The Porsche couldn't tell if it was Barricade's doing or if Prowl had shut down the bond to try and keep the hurt that Jazz was feeling out. And that, Jazz had to admit, made him feel scared. Was Prowl even concerned?

"Thinking about him, too?" a sickly-sweet voice called from his left. He ignored Barricade, like always, but he knew it wouldn't stop the officer from doing as he pleased with the Porsche. And that son-of-a-pitspawn always had something inside that twisted mind of his.

Claws trailed up his leg and disappeared before it reached his midsection. "Do you miss him? I know I do. I wonder if he'll be happy to see me again…" Barricade sang with a smile in his voice. That was bad.

Taking another breath of the cool air, Jazz angled his head to where he guessed the Saleen was. "_W-what…do ya…plan o-on doin…to him?" _he managed out. His vocalizer was short-circuiting, making his words choked and laced with static. The best he could see of Barricade in the dark was the four red lights shining down at him. The glow between his dim visor and the four, excitement-filled optics made Barricade's face light up fractionally and made his fangs gleam eerily.

He heard metal shifting, like the black mech was shrugging. "Oh, after our reunion, I plan on making him mine again. Afterwards I think I will dispose of you and your little friends, seeing how I will have already gotten what I want."

The claws returned and probed gently at his stomach while another set cupped his face to look towards the red optics. "But before then, I should make use of you while I can."

Jazz's bruised and bleeding lips were claimed in another harsh kiss, fangs sinking down into wounded flesh; claw tips pricking at delicate wiring inside the open gashes, targeting the uninjured circuits. A heavy weight settled on top of him and Jazz realized that Barricade was straddling him. The Saleen broke his kiss and reared up to tower over the wounded body below. Jazz was repulsed and sickened by the though of just letting Barricade have his way with him, actually longing for the pain of his knife over this humiliation. Quickly thinking of a distraction to get the Decepticon, he gave it a go- _"_Why are ya…doin this_?"_ Jazz quivered, only able to make his voice slightly more refined.

Barricade cocked his head, looking down at his confused, like it had been very obvious all the time. "Prowl was promised to me, I expect to have him."

Oh right, Prowl's creators. Jazz hoped they were rotting in the pit for all they had done.

"He ain't a noble anymore… his creator's wishes ain't his own."

Barricade snarled. "Regardless, he's mine! I paid for him, he belongs to me!" His fangs glinted in the red light as his optics lit up again.

Jazz stayed determined, not only to keep Barricade distracted but to also make his argument about his bonded. "The mech's…got a right to chose… who he wants; ya can't take that from him!" It was harder to cycle air with the Saleen sitting on him- even though the black mech was careful not to aggravate any wounds.

But he hadn't believed his audios when he heard- "You're right. I most certainly cannot." His snarl was replaced with a sadistic smile. "But he chose me before you."

It was Jazz's turn to be angry. "Prowl wasn't given a choice then, he chose ME over you because of what you did to him!"

"Exactly."

Jazz would have shaken his head to see if his audios were functioning right if he could. He looked Barricade in the optics. "Aside from you and I, Porsche, what experiences in love does Prowl have?" He asked mockingly.

Jazz knew what Barricade was getting at. He was saying that Prowl only thought he loved Jazz because he hadn't experienced many other mechs who liked him back. It was a cruel statement to say the least, but none the less true.

He could only whisper, "He never loved you…"

Barricade lowered himself to kiss Jazz's brow and murmur against the plating, "And he can't tell if he really loves you…"

That one little statement felt like a bomb exploding inside of him, because deep inside, he knew it was true. Prowl could have thought he loved Jazz simply for the fact that he knew no other love; no other person who cared. It made him want to scream- the thought of his bondmate, the one person he cared for above all else, figuring out that he didn't really love Jazz after all, that it was just some delusion that he had fooled himself with.

Barricade had begun touching him again, but Jazz couldn't feel anything. He was numb. He just wanted to wake up and have all of this be a nightmare, but most of all, he wanted to know: Did Prowl actually love him?

Something inside him told him that if the Datsun shared no true feelings, then it wasn't worth it. Maybe he should just die.

It was his last thought before he closed his optics and fell into recharge. This time; wondering if he even wanted to wake up.


	7. Arrival

**Arrival**

It was dark now. They had driven all day, from dawn to dusk. They should have been spotted by now, so why has no Decepticon yet shown himself? Was it a setup? So many unforeseen factors; it made him nervous. They had been driving in silence for hours, long since losing words to say to each other. But words weren't really needed to tell how they were feeling: Fear, anxiety, anger, and a dwindling sense of hope with a rising sense of frustration.

Red Alert was on the verge of a breakdown.

Sunstreaker could literally snap at any moment.

Bluestreak had begun to sink into his depression.

Ironhide's driving had become more aggressive.

Skye's vigor had faded.

It was only he who remained as fearful as he had been when they had started out. Self-loathing, pain, depression; Prowl could barely keep going. He called for a break and the others somberly agreed, quickly transforming by a rocky outcrop. They stood around awkwardly and quiet, not talking or bothering to consume any Energon. At one point, Ironhide and Sunstreaker started to maintenance their weaponry. The yellow twin brought out a wickedly sharp energy-blade with a sadistic grin. No doubt some Decepticon was marked for death. If not all of them…

The absolute untamed smile made Prowl shudder and he quickly looked away, facing the place where the sun had taken its last breath before plunging into the horizon. He wished he could see it's light, feel it's comforting warmth- This cold, dark world reminded him too much of his past. A small part of his CPU nagged him that the last time Jazz had probably felt the sun, it had been that fateful day when he had turned down his bonded's request for a drive between the two of them. Prowl's spark ached with questions; if he had been there, would Jazz still have been safe? Is he even alive?!

He sighed shakily, cycling air to cool his heated systems which were ablaze from his restlessness. He knew he would find the answer to his questions soon enough, and should it be too late and Barricade tortured him, so be it. He would deserve it for bringing this horror show of his own personal demons onto his loved ones.

"Brother?" He heard Bluestreak call from his place next to Sunstreaker, startling him out of his revelry. The Datsun looked back and saw all optics on him concernedly. Prowl turned fully to face them, reading each expression his group wore. Bluestreak was sitting, doors drooped, knees up, arms wrapped around himself. It wasn't hard for the black and white to see that Blue was obviously distressed. Although 'distressed' seemed to put it mildly.

Ironhide shifted in the silence, sub-spacing his gun and laying against the rock, arms behind his head. "So where are they? We've gone farther than Jazz'r anyone else went."

The question hit him hard. Where were the Decepticons? Why had they gone this long without getting captured? Prowl's processer ached from all of this, but he struggled to keep his self-control, it would do him no good to breakdown here and now.

With a cycle of air, he looked back out to the vast desert. "I don't know. I thought Barricade or at least Megatron would have had his Seekers come after us by now."

He caught Red Alert twitch out of his peripheral vision, but heard Sunstreaker snarl first.

"Decepticons? You were trusting Decepticons to help us find them?!" The golden twin quickly rose, but Ironhide did as well and put a hand on the warrior's shoulder, though he himself looked rather angry. Red Alert stood but Skye seemed to be ignoring the conversation and Blue just buried his face in his knees.

"So what now, tactician?" Sunstreaker spat the word out, "What is your oh so brilliant plan now?!" For a moment, Prowl actually wished Sideswipe was there, before he realized that with or without his twin, Sunstreaker would be as brash and uncensored as always.

"Prowl," a calmer voice, Red, "Do we even know where the Decepticon base is?"

The middle Datsun turned and looked at the rescue Lamborghini straight in the optics.

"No."

An un-amused and humorless laugh bellowed from Sunstreaker "Oh, how _darling_, Prowl, you rushed out to save Jazz without first knowing where he even is." Crossing his arms, the yellow twin's voice grew low and dark, "It's no wonder Jazz needs to keep saving your aft. What are you going to do when Jazz dies?"

Prowl stiffened.

"Sunny!" Blue warned, grabbing the warrior's arm, only to be pushed off.

Sunstreaker's rant didn't stop, he took casual strides as he mused. Prowl did nothing but clench his hands.

"I feel real bad for Jazz, he has to lower himself to protecting you from your problems because you're too scared to do it yourself." Skyeraider turned her head slightly to the group, keeping her optics trained on Prowl, Ironhide sighed at the signs of another 'Sunny Outburst', which were common in the Ark, Red remained silent while Blue remained apprehensive; one hand reached out to Sunstreaker in case he needed to pull him off his 'older brother'. Sunstreaker was pushing it, from the way he saw the black and white's doors rise to a dangerous angle.

But Sunny being Sunny, didn't know when to quit. At least not without Sideswipe around.

"Honestly, I can't wait to hear your excuse to Prime when we bring him back in a body ba-" Sunstreaker didn't get the chance to finish. With optics cold as ice, Prowl had swung around and planted his fist right in Sunny's face. He saw Skye turn away again, apparently the femme wanted nothing to do with the argument, Red started to twitch- burying his face in his hands and mumbled something- Ironhide leaned back and decided to let things run their course and Blue,

Blue started to sob, tears forming in his optics.

This wasn't his brother. It had been. A long time ago, before Jazz had come into his life. Before that kindly mech with his big stupid grin had waltzed right in and melted the ice around Prowl's spark before he stole it. He hated what Sunny was saying; the thought of Jazz being dead shook him to his spark.

Sunstreaker fell backwards with a grunt, looking up to see the cold, stoic tactician that he thought he'd never see again. Doors held high, back rigid, shoulders forced downward, Prowl bent and, with great strength, picked Sunstreaker up by his neck cables. Bluestreak saw Ironhide lean forward to be ready to tear the two apart, or get a closer look, he couldn't tell. Red was still muttering to himself and Skye still took no part. What scared him the most was the tension he could see building between Sunstreaker and Prowl as the tactician still kept his ruthless grip on the warrior; the hand wrapped around his cables cutting off Energon circulation to Sunny's body. Their optics were locked together in an invisible storm that brewed between them.

"Oh my," an unfamiliar cry broke the intensity. "It looks as though the brotherhood of our dear Autobots have left them."

"Or maybe they're just frustrated because they haven't interfaced in a week!" another cackled sadistically. Prowl broke contact with Sunstreaker and drew his weapon as the others did as well, save for Skye who stood motionless, still facing away.

Starscream and his trine stood on the outcrop above them, sneering to the six below them.

The three Decepticons jumped down with feline grace landing before the six with ease and, with no hesitation, began a slow and taunting pace forward. Ironhide managed to situate himself in front of Red Alert, protecting the Security Director in place of Inferno. It was never clear what had transpired between Red and Starscream during the infamous 'Negavator incident', but from Inferno's face after Red Alert had told him and only him, it had been enough to cause the normally happy-go-lucky mech to seethe with enough anger to scare Brawn out of his way.

But Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker seemed to have their optics trained solely on Prowl, and that their bemused expressions were being met with the glare that had only a moment ago been leveled at the yellow Lamborghini. Doorwings raised to deadly heights, optics nearly white from intensity, fists clenched tightly around the rifle in his hands; Prowl was close to snapping- the stress and frustration building up for an eruption.

"Looks like someone's found their ball-bearings!" Skywarp wheezed, clutching his sides as Thundercracker nudged the purple and black seeker.

Starscream grinned, folding his arms across his chest, "Really? I thought the Porsche had them, from the looks of it, I'd say miss 'Prowlie' is just PMSing."

Thundercracker snickered, "A femme? Explains why his chest is so big!"

The three seekers roared in laughter, yet Prowl remained inpassive. Not moving a muscular cable.

Ironhide obviously didn't share the trine's sense of humor, "You Decepticreeps better quit yer laughin' and start tellin' us where our friends are!"

The three seekers composed themselves with little difficulty, all with those annoying Decepticon Trademark smirks. "Oh? Well, why don't you make us tell you?" Starscream dared boldly.

"FINE BY ME!" A sudden roar rang as Sunstreaker lurched forward at the three with the energy-blade gleaming in his fist, Red Alert and Ironhide rushing past Prowl and Bluestreak taking a post with his sniper poised next to Prowl. Skyeraider, since she had yet to move past him, he assumed the Osprey was still statuesque. He could hardly care with reality moving in slow motion. The seeker's had repelled Sunstreaker with ease, Skywarp was straddling Ironhide's back, and Thundercracker holding an on-the-verge-of-glitching Red Alert with an arm cannon pointed to his helm. The gaze the blue and white seeker gave Bluestreak silently told the gunner to lower the gun, and Bluestreak complied hesitantly.

"Better! Now, Prowlie, dear," Starscream sneered, striding up to Prowl, taking one quick look at the smaller Datsun, before pushing Bluestreak to the ground. A snarl ripped from Sunstreaker, who was now being held down by Thundercracker's foot and the cannon barrels to Ironhide and Red Alert's heads. "I'll need you to come with us. Barricade has a little something you might want back…" A smile touched his words. Prowl hesitated, locking his optics with the Air Commander's ruby ones. "Jazz…" his words were but a whisper.

Starscream smiled, reaching up to touch the tactician's cheek, stroking it gently. "Want to see him again?" The voice taunted his guilt. He could only dumbly nod.

Starscream grinned audio to audio, dropping his hand and turning to signal Thundercracker and Skywarp to release their captives. The two seekers then transformed and took to the skies before Sunstreaker or the others could recover and shoot.

Starscream backed up to transform.

"If you want to see your beloved comrades again, Autobots, then you will follow us and leave your weapons here." He eyed the volatile yellow frontliner who looked like he wanted to maul the Decepticon. "ALL of them- lest you want something terrible to happen to your poor friends. They're already in so much pain; don't cause them more because you're too foolish to follow simple instructions."

With that, the red, white, and blue flier took off, his turbines screeching eastbound.

Red Alert dusted himself off from being pushed to the ground, and looked to Skyeraider, "You knew they were coming didn't you?!" He practically shrieked. The teal femme tilted her head lethargically to him, wrinkling her olfactory sensors, "Maybe a little more than alot." Her wings lifted a bit, "Vibrations are easier to pick up on when ya got wings for flyin'."

Red Alert put a hand to his forehelm, "A little warning next time would be nice…"

"Might not be a next time, Red, not unless we can catch up to them! Let's roll!" Ironhide shouted, dropping his rifle before transforming and speeding after the seekers disappearing into the distance. Skyeraider abandoned her pistols as she shifted into jet-mode. Before much else could go through Prowl's processor, Sunstreaker and Red Alert drove past him at top speeds; leaving their artillery behind. Bluestreak abandoned his sniper and took a few steps in front of him before looking back at his brother.

"Prowl?"

Frightened optics looked at the young gunner. Doorwings quivered agitatedly, "What if they're already gone?"

Bluestreak turned to give the older Datsun a sympathetically sad smile as he took the trembling white hand into his own.

"Then we'll see it for ourselves…" It did nothing to help the black and white's tattered nerves.

The grey and red Datsun gave a brief tug on his arm leading the other a few steps before they both transformed hastily and sped after their friends into the dark horizon.

Even at night, the early July heat was blistering. The only comfort was the cool wind rushing past then as they chased after their guides, who were lit only by the short bursts of light courtesy of heat lightning that erupted in the not-so-far distance. Prowl's spark pulsed a million miles a minute as the dark citadel that was the current Decepticon base appeared before them, towering like a massive wave prior to it falling into a crash. As they stopped and transformed like the seekers, an unusually cold breeze crept through their frames like death approaching.

It was the point of no return.

The Coneheaded seekers were awaiting them by the open door, sneers tattooed on their face-plates. Starscream's trine landed behind the six Autobots, "After you, my friends, your beloveds await you…" He gestured towards the black opening in the purple fortress. Prowl turned back towards the dark base, he hardly thought of anything more than his bonded waiting for him and quickly strode towards into the maw of his nightmares.

He didn't look back to see if the others were following him, but the sound of footsteps behind him confirmed they were falling in step with him. The Coneheads were escorting them further into the abyss while the other three seekers trailed them; making sure there was no escape, no doubt.

The next step being the one and only thought they could possibly think of to keep their thoughts off the dry Energon that coated the walls; each praying that it didn't belong to their dearly loved. Prowl dropped his gaze to the floor to keep himself from overheating from anxiety. He could practically hear his spark-pulse erupting inside his chest._ 'Calm down, he's here…he's fine! I-I would have felt it if-' _

Pink.

The dark length of violet floor he was staring at suddenly interrupted itself with a drop of rosy fluid.

And another larger one.

And a small puddle of it.

He stopped so suddenly Ironhide bumped into his doorwings. A second jostle told him Bluestreak hadn't been paying much attention either.

_No…_

Crimson pierced the blackness, accompanied by fallen blood raindrops on the floor still dripping from a broken frame. The three fliers in front of them had moved out of the way.

"Hello, my love…" Barricade cooed, pulling Jazz's listless form closer to him.

Prowl stared at Barricade with so much hatred, he wouldn't have been very surprised it the mech simply combusted where he stood.

"You're shaking," The first wave of Barricade's poison words. Prowl braced himself, trying not to listen for fear of losing himself when he could not.

"Are you scared, dear one? I will not harm you." Behind him, Red Alert and Ironhide shifted closer to him, whether it was for his sake or Jazz's, he was not sure, he could not care; his optics were trained on his bonded and the psychopath holding him. It was as he feared; Jazz's injuries were severe and deep- more than likely, the only thing holding the Porsche up was the cruel Decepticon that held him captive.

Barricade must have realized he no longer held Prowl's attention, and decided he'd get it back; creatively. Slipping his claws into the gaping wound on his prisoner's middle, he grabbed a mass of bloody wires ad roughly pulled them, eliciting a mix of a gasp and a whimper from the smaller saboteur. Prowl flinched immediately and took a step forward, wanting the get his bonded away from this monster, but not daring the come closer to him for fear Barricade would inflict more pain. Instead, the Saleen simply removed his claws, seeing how he regained what he wanted, and, with a smile, he began to lick the clean of the Energon that covered them.

"Starscream," the black mech cooed softly, tilting his helm in the seeker's direction, "Did you enjoy your time playing with the red twin?" Sunstreaker gave a feral snarl behind him as Starscream looked at him with sadistic pleasure.

"Oh yes, He's such a little pleasure- especially when he's trying to be fearless. Though I personally have to admit I think he's cuter when he lets his fear show." The Air Commander looked at the raging yellow twin with a dreamy grin, "He's adorable when he screams for you, _Sunny_…"

The floodgates burst, and Sunstreaker launched himself at the seeker behind him. A yellow fist attempted to connect to the grey faceplates, but ultimately failed as purple and white hands grabbed the warrior and threw him to the ground. Thrust, Dirge, and Ramjet came from behind Prowl and launched themselves at Bluestreak, Skyeraider, and Ironhide while Starscream slammed Red Alert into the nearby wall. Sunstreaker writhed under the heavy grip of the two seekers pinning him to the floor, cursing in both Cybertronian and English.

"You son of a slagging whore! I'm going to rip you to pieces until there's nothing left!" Sunstreaker saw fit to screech at the highest levels his vocalize allowed- Prowl was sure Sideswipe, if conscious, heard it. Red Alert's horns sparked and glowed dangerously as he began another glitch-attack, most likely from the combination of Sunstreaker's shrieking and the pressure Starscream was putting on him to force the little Lamborghini into the wall.

Prowl, now the only Autobot left standing, turned back to Barricade in hopes of negotiating his comrades release; and saw that the yellow twin's screaming had done more.

Prowl's spark skipped at the sight of Jazz moving, if only weakly. He heard Bluestreak crying out Jazz's name, but was too engrossed with silently begging his bonded to look at him to check on the youngest Datsun. Barricade smiled and began petting the chest armor under his hand gently. Prowl's wish was finally granted as Jazz painfully looked up, though his spark took another agonizing stab as he saw the state of his bonded's once beautiful face. Visor cracked and barely lit; with tears both dry and wet streaking down his face.

Air cycle caught in his throat, "Jazz!"

Barricade finished preening his claws, cocking his head to the side. "Oh dear, I'm sorry, but sweet, little Jazz is a bit out of it right now…" The Decepticon talked like a mother who had been asked where his sparkling was.

Prowl snorted angrily, "No thanks to you, right?" Barricade's face contorted into a sincerely hurt expression.

The Saleen took the distance between them away in less than a few seconds, dragging a barely conscious Jazz with him. A hand coated with saliva and missed energon settled on Prowl's cheek. Barricade's four ruby optics slanted in pure upset.

"Beloved, why? What about him captures your spark? Why must you care for him?" The black mech sounded like a youngling who hurt himself and was wailing to his creator.

Prowl looked at his former lover square in the optics.

"I love him." The words were strong and set.

As soon as the words left his vocalizer, he feared Barricade might take it wrong and hurt Jazz as a consequence. But the black Saleen's look of hurt dropped, and for a moment, he looked thoughtful, before he shook his head and looked around dazed as if he knew no more of what was happening. Prowl knew better than anyone else that Barricade's personality was as unstable as his mind. From the smile that now played upon the mech's lip components, Barricade had completely repressed the last few moments. Barricade only ever heard what he wanted to hear. The black Decepticon began to look around with child-like wonder before his sight dropped to Red Alert. Barricade shifted himself to face the sandwiched mech. He leaned himself over to come nearly face-to-face with the glitching Lamborghini, nuzzling his nose to Red's cheek. "I know you!" He cried, "You belong to the fire truck!"

"Barricade." Starscream droned, "How about we let them see how well we took care of their loved ones?" AKA- a chance for Starscream to gloat about how his torture methods were more effective than Megatron's.

Barricade just cocked his head again. "Why?"

"All the more fun to rip them apart, Barricade." A new voice caught everyone's attention. Prowl turned to see two Decepticons emerge from the dark hall; that green tank and the white femme that the Autobots knew as Sonicstriker. He heard Skye hiss angrily, "Backfire…"

Barricade straightened and nodded. Moving back over to Prowl, he grabbed the Datsun and dragged him off; past the two new arrivals who were moving to haul the five other Autobots to different place in the base.

Prowl attempted to straighten up, "Barricade! The others! You better not hurt them!" He watched as Barricade's optics slithered to look at him. A nostalgic chill ran down his spinal system, it reminded him of his days in Barricade's captivity.

"You should be more worried about him…" he nodded to the limp form in his other claws, "…Another few hours and his spark shall be no more!"

Prowl could only look back to the others who were being dragged farther into the dark purgatorial abyss of the Decepticon base and pray for their safety; it was already too late for himself…

If Barricade still remembered where Prowl's sensitive areas were- he didn't show it very well. Prowl landed hard on his roof and wings, ultimately smashing the glass of his lights and causing a blunt shock up his spinal system. A strangled mix of a grunt and a moan escaped his lips. Prowl managed to recover just as Jazz was thrown in behind him. The Datsun managed to turn around and catch the wounded Porsche, in doing so, having a large splatter of rosy blood splash onto him; the tactician hardly noticed. Jazz was groaning in pain, now that he was conscious and free of Barricade- who had silently closed the door, Prowl knew the Saleen never had a taste for any loud noise other than a scream. The black and white thought quickly and moved both of them to the back of the room to the wall, setting Jazz back against it so he wasn't slouched over and causing aggravation to his wounds, and finally, cupping his bondmate's precious face in his white hands; mapping the features he had longed to see for well over a week now. A week it may have been, but it had felt like an eternity. Prowl realized Jazz's visor was dark- meaning it was either off or dead, and from the cracks and chips, he guessed it was the latter.

"Pr-Prowl…?" a weak, whispered plea snapped him out of his analysis. The light brush of digits shakily and tentatively touching his forearm and Jazz's broken, sob-stained voice brought tears to his optics, and he could not stop himself from softly pulling his bonded into a loving embrace. Of course, the Datsun was careful to avoid hurting him as he buried his face into Jazz's shoulder. Prowl's vocalizer could not form any other words except, "Thank Primus…"

He felt shaking arms make an effort to return the hug, the body relaxing in his bondmate's arms.

They stayed like that for a moment, letting their withering bond speak for them now that they were finally had a connection. They sent their love, reassurance, guilt, comfort, and shushed apologies to one another as Jazz's hands explored the one holding him, obviously trying to validate whether or not this was another of Barricade's tricks. As the black hands finally migrated and rested on the Datsun's face, a sudden look of horror stole across his face

"N-no! You-you can't be h-here! That's what he wants!"

Prowl winced, "…Jazz…"

The Porsche was frantically struggling in Prowl's arms so much that he was pressing against his own wounds. Blood continued to pour onto the other's body, the same as words of nonsense poured out of Jazz's mouth. Prowl held onto him as tightly as he dared, but it did no good.

"No! No, no, no! C-can't let him! Won't let him hurt you!" Those words pierced his spark as Prowl realized that despite every serious injury that graced Jazz's lithe form, his bonded was still desperately attempting to defend him from his ex-bondmate. Prowl figured in his delirium, Jazz was probably unable to process logic, trying to think of something simple for his bondmate to understand so that the little Porsche would stop wriggling and hurting himself.

"Jazz, calm down! Barricade isn't here, don't you see?!" Bingo. Jazz immediately ceased, but somehow began trembling. Prowl leaned forward to place his forehelm against Jazz's, quietly hushing his tremors. Pulling backwards to rest his lover against himself and tucking the black helm under his own. He began to massage Jazz's back tenderly, lulling the saboteur into a sleepy peace against him. Prowl shuttered his optics, letting out a shaky sigh.

'_What has Barricade done to you?_' No, now was not the time to think about what had happened, he needed to tend to Jazz in the present. Reaching into subspace, he withdrew a cube of Energon. For a moment, Prowl wondered why Barricade hadn't stripped them of the cubes, but he put it aside. Pushing his bonded back a little bit, but not enough for Jazz's arms to be forced to break their hold on him, he pressed the edge of the container to the Porsche's lips. "Drink this, Jazz." He didn't raise his voice above a whisper.

The black and white mech reared back away from the pink sustenance like it was poison.

Jazz simply shook his head; looking away from it. Prowl's sorrow turned to confusion; surely by now, his bondmate would be starving, right? His readings told him Jazz's energy levels were critical, so why did he refuse to drink?

"You have to! You will die if you don't!"

Jazz simply shook his head again, "can't…" before the Datsun could ask why, he mentally slapped himself. The large gash on the Porsche's middle coupled with the hole in his throat made it impossible to ingest anything. Prowl thought for a moment before he shoved the cube into Jazz's hands, well, hand. One, Prowl had found with horror, had been blown off. Gently, he coaxed his lover to turn around and lay against him. Jazz turned his head to give the tactician a questioning glare, but was met with a peck on the cheek. "Trust me…" A white hand reached up to the saboteur's neck and massaged it lovingly. The other hand stroked the abused midsection plating, drifting closer to the actual wound. Jazz let out a distressed whimper, but Prowl shushed him quickly, nuzzling the side of his face. "This will hurt," he whispered into his audio, "I'm so sorry." Jazz barely had time to process this before a sharp pain jolted down his spinal structure. Prowl's hands pressed hard inside the gashes, hand over the missing throat paneling and arm embedded in the long slash.

Jazz attempted to struggle, but the grip was like a vice, "S-stop! _Please_!" he begged, making his lover's spark ache. Prowl placed chaste kisses on the dying mech's tearstained cheek, trying to comfort the distraught Porsche. He knew that Jazz could take no more pain, but he needed to do so to ensure Jazz would survive at least the next few hours. Then a thought struck him; his bondmate had been through so much agony and, no doubt, humiliation. His optics drifted to the main fuel line that jumped out at him in between the shoulder and neck plating, he slipped his fingers into the opening. One quick move- that's all it would take, then his beloved would suffer no more.

But a spark-wrenching sob escaped Jazz and a fresh wave of tears leaked from the mutilated optics beneath the broken visor, "P-Prowler, _please,_ n-no more!"

Prowl winced, the once laugh-filled, sweetly spoken nickname his mate called him now drenched in pain and confusion struck his in his very core; his digits slipped away from the line and began to stroke the Porsche's neck cables that the hole exposed. Sparkache and guilt wracked Prowl's every thought, but he knew what he had to do to ensure Jazz's wellbeing.

"Drink, Jazz," he nuzzled his bonded's audio lovingly, "you must trust me. Drink it."

It took the mech in his arms a few moments to cease his whimpers and struggles to clearly process what his mate was trying to do. Hesitantly at first, Jazz raised the substance halfway and Prowl gave him a small nuzzle of encouragement; and Jazz finally swallowed it down. Prowl winced as he felt the splash of liquid on his hand as he clogged the whole in Jazz's intake and silently sighed, knowing he had just given his beloved a few more hours to live. As soon as the last few drops of Energon dripped from his hand, he gently removed it and gently began stroking the very plating he had agitated; though he didn't remove the other limb he had embedded into his lover's midsection- knowing it would take a little while for the sustenance to reach his tanks and digest it the best he could at the moment. Prowl cringed as he realized the next step was bleeding it out in horrible agony. Jazz now lay limp in his arms, spent and exhausted from his thrashing, but none the less, safe. 'For now' the tactician thought bitterly, it would only be a matter of time until Barricade saw to it that the Porsche would be once again writhing in pure anguish. Taking in a cycle of cold air, he decided he would work on a plan to get them all out, until then- he could at least take solace in the fact he had his beloved saboteur, alive, in his arms once more.

Reaching a bloody, Energon-soaked hand, though he knew Jazz hardly cared at the moment, he began to softly pet the helm- hoping to soothe the processor-ache he knew was there. "Recharge, love, you need it."

The Porsche rolled his head a bit, trying to get a good look at his bonded. Prowl helped him, tilting his face towards him before descending to press his lips softly against the other black and white's. A quiver ripped down his spine and into his aching doors, but it was, as Prowl could tell, a good pain. Reluctantly, he parted their lips and gave his dazed lover a reassuring smile, "I'll watch over you, rest, please…"

Jazz stared at him for a few seconds before he ducked his helm under Prowl's and snuggled back into the Datsun's warmth; apparently forgetting about the arm in his middle. Prowl resumed petting his saboteur until he heard a low purr from Jazz's weakened systems, ensuring his beloved was deep in a much needed recharge.

Emitting a sigh, he laid his cheek on top of Jazz's helm and closed his own optics; waiting for the burn of half-digested Energon to singe his arm as it struggled to disperse into his systems. But for now he needed to rest his frayed nerves and think.

Unconsciously, though, a pink tear rolled down his cheek and dropped to stain the ebony helm.

"I'm so sorry…" a whisper in the dead silence.

He waited in the dark for a sign he was not forsaken.

But nothing came.


	8. Regime

**Regime**

Red Alert's spoiler crunched as Starscream slammed him against the ice cold wall next to the cell door with his own body.

"Let me go! Let go! Get off!" The Lamborghini shrieked, the jet pressing against his every curve and bend. A strong hand holding his own two above him, his distress only fueling his weakness.

"Don't think so, Red, you're mine now…" Starscream sneered, nuzzling the crook of the smaller mech's neck.

Red Alert squirmed, trying not to let out another cry of panic as the Decepticon began stroking his hip armor suggestively. Against his will, and to his disgust, his own body began heating up in pleasure as Starscream found a particularly sensitive wire there. "W-wait, no! Barri-c-cade told you to t-_ah_! T-take me to Inferno!" He managed to spit out, desperate to get away from invading fingers. To see his bondmate.

Instead of the expected growl or snarl, the flier contented himself with a simple chuckle. "Barricade. Isn't. _Here_." The Lamborghini bit back a surprised squeak when the larger mech swooped in for a hard, merciless kiss. Red Alert was tempted to try and bite at Starscream's lips, but decided against it when he realized it would require him to open his lips. He began struggling anew, franticly attempting to get away from the jet before this went too far, _like last time_. Inferno would never be able to forgive him twice…

The trapped mech nearly whined as the familiar ache of an oncoming glitch-attack throbbed inside his processor; the experience becoming all too familiar for his systems not to recognize what was being done to him. Purely out of instinct, his spark called out to its mate, but received no reply. That very fact scared Red Alert more than the mech molesting him, who had moved from kissing at his lips to nipping at his audios with increased fervor.

Screaming in panic, Red Alert's glitch exploded; full blast, electricity crackling and blue sparks flew off of stubby, red horns, pain taking hold of his body and causing it to lock up.

Starscream reared back to take a look at his victim and savored the sight of his shaking, terrified and utterly helpless victim.

The jet all but laughed before plunging his face into Red's neck cables, groping them with his glossa. A blue hand fondled the vulnerable headlight in front of him, digits drifting lower to plunge themselves into a wire-filled opening in the red and white armor.

Red Alert couldn't bite back the cry in his throat, resuming his futile struggles. Closing his optics, he didn't expect to feel Starscream cease his ministrations on his neck and straighten up.

"But, seeing how Barricade has promised you to me anyway, I'll let you see your _beloved_ fire truck."

Starscream had apparently entered to code to the door while fondling Red Alert's body, for the next thing the Lamborghini knew, he was pushed into a dark room and he heard the door slid shut before him.

No thanks to Starscream's rough handling, Red Alert landed on the floor with an 'oof' and a thud, the shockwave rattling his CPU. As soon as it ended, he forced open his optics and attempted to stand. Although he wobbled a bit and the darkness of the chamber hindered his sight, his sensors flared; alerting him to everything around him. His glitch had calmed itself once Starscream had released him, but hadn't completely let go of his CPU, giving him heightened sensors. There was a constant drip of water leaking in the corner, the pipes overhead were running a fluid at a high speed, and…and there was _something_ laboriously cycling a great amount of air in the back of the room. Red froze for a minute, remembering what Starscream had suggested in the corridor before he was dragged away by said seeker and separated from the others. Could it be? Hope drowned out logical thinking; any thought left behind as he sprang forward into the darkness of the oversized torture chamber.

Not paying attention to his sensors in a dark room, however, was not the brightest of moves he could make as he tripped and fell over what felt like a discarded pipe. Red Alert's self-preservation kicked in and he managed to roll on his shoulder at the minute of impact to lie on his back. Thoroughly embarrassed, he allowed himself to stay like that for a small while, reading through the information he shouldn't have forgotten to check over in the first place, though he didn't need to to realize there was something very near his face. The flustered Lamborghini tried to make out what it was, but even with the light emanating from his optics, the object was far too near for him to make out clearly. He rolled himself onto his side and reached for it- brushing his digits lightly against its warm surface, its _familiar_ surface. Yes, it had to be…

Trailing his fingers upward, Red Alert stopped when he came to the top of the structure, optics widening as he came face to face with an end of a blood-soaked pole. He stared at it for a few more seconds before his optics focused beyond that; and widened so far he wouldn't have been surprised if they simply fell out. Energon cascaded down destroyed armor, glass was cracked and shattered from the rod impaled into it, optics closed, helm bowed. Large hands and powerful legs were held down by heavy restraints to the chair below them. Red Alert's spark broke at the sight of his once proud and jovial bonded in this awful condition, and made a mental note to make sure he 'thanked' a certain seeker for each and every gash and cut.

"Inferno?" Although his scarlet mate hadn't been missing for as long as Jazz had, the Lamborghini had feared for the fire truck just the same.

It didn't help that his paranoia kicked in when Inferno gave no response. This time; he welcomed it- standing up and grabbing the injured mech by the shoulders, he roughly shook him.

"Inferno! Inferno! Wake up! You have to wake _up_!" Red punctuated the last word with a harsh slap across the face-plates. Instantly, there was a low groan and optics unshuttered to a low dim.

With great effort, the red mech managed to lazily turn his head to look at his visitor; optics widening before squinting in the dark.

"R-Red? That you?"

The sound of his bonded's voice calmed him slightly, but did nothing for the faint voice of his glitch that was haunting his CPU.

"Yes, it's me, it's ok…" Swallowing a gulp of air, he moved a little closer to the bound mech, "…oh, Inferno…" he nearly whispered in sorrow.

With a noise of effort, Inferno tried to sit up the best he could, helm lolling around in agony. Red Alert's gaze drifted to the pole jutting out of the windshield before him, gritting his dentals, he reached out and gripped it tightly, not remembering he was still shaking. Even the slightest of jostling aggravated the deep wound; more than likely- knocking against the sensitive casing of Inferno's spark. Whatever it was elicited a sharp yell from his poor mate, causing Red Alert to withdraw his hand, but only slightly. Inferno began furiously cycling the frigid air of the underground dungeon,

"R…R-Re-...d" he labored. The Security Director leaned up to trail his digits lovingly across the fire truck's cheek.

"Shhh, it's going to be okay, Inferno, just trust me," Inferno's weak optics came to rest on him, "it'll be alright, I promise." Those optics didn't leave him.

Bracing himself for the inevitable screams, Red Alert gently grabbed hold of the rod with both hands and, before he could think against himself, he pulled.

For the most part, the shaft eased out with the help of the energon that covered it, and then it started to jam. Inferno tried to hold back his sounds of agony by biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to make it bleed profusely, but when the pole no longer wanted to leave him, he could not help but let out a sobbing cry. Hearing this caused Red Alert to put more force into it, his mate, whether he thought so or not, needed to get this thing out of him or else his spark could be disrupted- leading to an excruciatingly painful death. With a grating groan, the damned thing rocketed outwards, nearly hitting Red Alert in the face. Inferno's cries faded to pained whines and the smaller Lamborghini instantly leaned upwards, petting the bruised check with great care.

"I'm so sorry, Inferno, I didn't want to hurt you. I-" He hung his head, unable to excuse himself for hurting Inferno like that. Glancing over to the bleeding hand of his mate, he then decided to remove the binds that held down Inferno's limbs. The metal straps were cold as ice, sending jolts of stinging pain into the sensitive nodes of his hands, none the less; he grabbed hold of the bind and pulled with as much strength as he had left in him.

It didn't even budge.

Inferno's breathing had calmed only a small amount, but his helm was now drooping and his shoulders slumping in a way that told Red Alert his mate was drifting off into unconsciousness again. Not knowing whether to allow this, a small battle took place in his helm between his glitch and CPU, and he wasn't exactly sure who won, all he knew was that he looked to the side of the large throne and spotted what looked like a switch of some sort, resting on the wall next to where Inferno was sitting. The security director took one look back at the bind's locking mechanism, figuring it might be electronic, and thus, worth a try, right? At this point, he didn't have much to lose. Red Alert sprung upwards, unnoticed by his bonded, and grabbed the lever, forcing all his weight onto it. With a groan, the thing finally shifted downwards, and rewarded Red Alert with the binds unlocking and partially slipping off Inferno's wrists at a slow pace. The Lamborghini figured they could have been damaged by the fire truck's struggling, though he hardly put any thought process into it, too busy with rushing over to rouse his bonded and get the rest of the binds off of him.

Inferno was less than happy to wake from his delirium; even with the heavy restraints gone he did not wake. This frightened the already shaky Red Alert and he scrambled up to his bonded's face, trying to keep him from falling into stasis lock. It was more than likely that Inferno was passing out from fluid lost; as a firefighting-mech, his internal fluids needed to move a fast rate in order to keep his internal temperature cool and his systems fueled for quick decisions. The truck's size helped none too much, either, bigger mechs meaning more fuel lines resulting in easier blood loss when wounded.

"Inferno!" Again, no answer initially, Red Alert cringed as he, once again, backhanded his beloved. This time it didn't work.

Inferno was slumping over in a curve so painful looking, it made Red Alert's own back hurt just looking at it. Trying to keep himself busy so his glitch didn't try to tell him there was no hope for either of them nor the rest of their teammates, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Inferno's chest and pulled backwards, trying to get him back out of that torture-chair. Red Alert wasn't as strong as say, Ironhide, but he could manage a lot more than people gave him credit for, and he successfully hauled his mate out of the chair and lowered him to the floor. Most of Inferno's weight leaned against him, his head lolled into Red Alert's neck, and his body settled awkwardly in a heap on the cold ground.

Red Alert sighed, the heat from his systems meeting the cold air and creating a fog, something that reminded him of the smoke of the flames he and Inferno would so often battle together.

Gently, he pulled his mate closer to allow a more comfortable recharge for him; nuzzling him warmly, he felt a bit relieved to see Inferno alive.

Red Alert was so preoccupied with tending to his bonded that he never even noticed it when a pair of crimson optics slipped into the room silently, standing behind him with a grin.

- - -

Bluestreak cursed his anatomy as the green tank-mech, whom Skye so affectionately called Backfire, slammed him backwards onto his doors, his head striking the ground. The gunner bit his lip, trying to keep from crying out for help, as instinct told him he should, given his specialty. If someone came up from behind him while he was using a sniper, Ironhide had told him to call out for another Autobot's help, seeing how the sniper being used at short range wasn't too good of an idea. After the sharp, needle-like pain subsided into a dull throb, Bluestreak opened his optical shutters, heaved himself over, and managed to get on his hands and knees before he looked up.

He had been separated from the others; great. Now what?

Sighing, Bluestreak stood; he trusted his brother with his life (like he was doing now) but somehow felt a little uneasy with all of this. How were they supposed to help their friends if they too were held captured? Was this Megatron's plan? Did the Decepticon leader even know the Autobots were in his stronghold? And that Barricade guy, the way he talked to Prowl about Jazz, it was so strange, what happened between those three last time they met that would tell Barricade to treat Prowl that way? But most Decepticons were strange, it shouldn't surprise him that Barricade may have done that simply to freak out Prowl or maybe to taunt him by acting like Jazz.

He looked around his surroundings, Dark, cold, humid- he hoped there weren't bats at this base. Bluestreak could handle a lot, bats, however, were not on the 'can handle' list. They were hard to get rid of, made a lot of noise, and flew around annoyingly. Like a miniature Starscream. Only multiplied by, like, 400. Sometimes even more…

Bluestreak shook his head- trying to keep himself from going on a mental rant. Again.

Sighing again, the grey Datsun moved to the back of the room like Prowl once instructed him to in a situation like this. He honestly hoped his older brother was alright, he had been dragged away with Jazz by that four-eyed Decepticon, Barricade. And Jazz, poor, poor Jazz! He had been ripped and mangled and from the looks of how unresponsive he had been, probably half-starved to death. Bluestreak's doors started to raise, worrying about not only his brother and his bonded, but the team he came here with and the victims yet to be seen. Was Ratchet ok? Or Blaster? What about- Bluestreak's face met the ground quite abruptly, not having time to keep himself from falling, tripping actually, over something clunky. The tips of his wings rapped the ground sharply, causing an awkward tingle to run up the length of his back.

Slag, he hated falling…

Sighing again (this was getting way too repetitive for him.) he managed to pick himself up onto his hands and knees. Looking back at what he tripped on, he squinted in the dark at the 'clunky' thing. He could barely make out an outline of the object. How was he- oh, right, headlights. His lights whirred to life illuminating the object he was looking at. Which happened to be a blue and grey leg, he shifted his chest upward, a grey waist and-

"Would you turn that damn light off?!"

Blindly (in the literal sense) following instinct, Bluestreak switched off his headlights and stuttered a quick apology before coming to recognize that voice.

"Smokey?" He called into the darkness hopefully.

"What?" Came the bored, irritated voice always directed towards him from his eldest brother. That didn't stop the gunner from ecstatically jumping on his brother and subjecting him to a warm, overexcited hug. Smokescreen yelped, hating his youngest brother's hugs and, right now, just plain hating his brother, for the little idiot didn't seem to notice he was badly injured. It was more than likely that if he had not been tied up, he would have struck the gunner over his head or at least given him a good throttling.

"For the love of Primus! Blue, get the slag off me!"

At the pained tone to the normally secure and conceited voice of his eldest brother, Bluestreak withdrew his arms and sat back on his legs, but the excited smile on his face would not recede. Smokescreen stretched his neck, lolling it from side to side to try and get the energon flowing through his lines again, though the slit down his throat sent sharp stabs of pain with every movement. Grimacing as another sudden burst of throbbing discomfort coursed its way down his spinal structure with a loud pop of a joint settling back into place, the blue Datsun eyed his youngest 'brother' over, looking him up and down with his damaged optics. The grey Datsun was settling himself next to the larger mech by the wall, all with that annoying trademark smile of his. Bluestreak and Smokescreen stared at each other for a minute before the latter took in a deep cycle of cold air, shuttering his optics.

"Blue, aren't we getting out of here?" he asked incredulously, either knowing the answer or knowing Blue had hit his head a little too hard when he had been brought into the cell.

"Actually we got captured, too." Bluestreak responded, smiling still.

"Of course you did."

Smile gone. Embarrassed ramble of endless words: imminent."Uh… Here," The little grey gunner pulled out a rosy pink energon cube from subspace. "Guess the 'Cons didn't think to search us…" Or maybe not.

"Hey, Blue?" Smokescreen smiled down at his younger brother with faked sincerity, noticing the sting of the cut on his lips. "Yes?" That smile returned to Bluestreak's face. Stupid, stupid little mechlet.

"I'M KINDA TIED UP!"

"Sorry!"

The wound on his wrist stung sharply as Smokescreen lifted the cube of pink fluid to his lips. Bluestreak sat next to him against the wall, staring into his own cube. The crestfallen look on the younger gunner's face was warning enough for the older mech to know that he needed to distract the other, lest he fall into that depressing mood again. "So who else is 'we'?" Bluestreak gave a half-jump, startled out of his daydream. He looked at his brother,

"Red, Prowl, Ironhide, 'Raider, and Sunny." The Blue Datsun let out a deep chuckle at the last name.

"Huh, thought I heard that yellow pre-Madonna bawling. At Barricade?"

"Screamer."

"Hn."

"What's the deal with that mech anyway?"

"Starscream? His overinflated ego coupled with the fact that I'm pretty sure he's Megatron's bit-" Bluestreak's rant was cut off prematurely by a nonchalant swat to his helm.

"I was reffering to Barricade, you little idiot."

"Oh!" Bluestreak had the grace to look embarrassed, ignoring the insulting nickname Smokescreen had bestowed upon him long ago. The grey mech quickly looked down and away from his older brother.

"That mech…" Smokescreen's voice came so deeply and so seriously that Bluestreak had to actually turn to make sure that the words were actually coming out of the good-times-loving, thrill-of-the-moment mech's mouth. "I don't know what to think of him…I see him on the battlefield every so often, he always goes after every Autobot in his line of sight and its always like he's on a set path, and he cuts down anyone in his way, even his own comrades. Then I see him and all he does is stand there and stare at something with a weird smile…"

Bluestreak almost shivered at the memory of the mech they were referring to. Dark, mysterious, and…well the gunner couldn't tell which bodily feature was more frightening; the four ruby-colored, slanted optics or the fang-lined smiles that so often graced those thin, silver lips. But the worst was the way he spoke to Prowl…

"H-he talked to Prowl like he knew him, when we were coming into the base…"

Smokescreen looked at him, cocking an optic ridge, "How so?"

Bluestreak drew his lower lip in and bit at it for a second, "He called Prowl 'beloved', 'love' and 'dear one'. It was so…"

"Creepy?" Smokescreen finished for him.

"More creepy than Soundwave's laugh…"

"Ah."

Smokescreen took another swig of energon, thinking to when they had been brought to the Decepticon base by those stupid, squabbling cone-heads and, instead of being brought before Megatron, the mech they had all assumed was behind the disappearances of their friends, they were brought directly to a black, four-eyed mech who introduced himself as 'Barricade' and informed them that they would be staying with him for a while until he got 'what he wanted', after which, he summoned his seeker friends and told them to 'try and have fun' before leaving. Starscream and his trinemates had done their personal bests to try and accommodate the request by torturing them- not for information, but for their own amusement. After their 'fun', he had been separated from Inferno and Sideswipe and thrown into the corner of this cold, damp cell for Primus knows how long.

"Blue, how long have me and the guys been MIA?" He pondered after a moment. Bluestreak thought for a second, "four or five days. Jazz has been missing for more than a week."

"There was a moment of silence as Smokescreen's optics brightened with thought.

"What'cha thinking about, Smokey?"

Without even looking at his brother, the blue Datsun flicked the grey's chevron and went back to his train of thought. Bluestreak gave a pout, fluttered his doorwings agitatedly, and slumped back, waiting in cold quiet.

"…You remember when Jazz came back with his optics slit open?" That freaky serious tone was back again, it was startling to scare the poor gunner.

"Hard not to…" Bluestreak flinched, unwanted memories resurfacing.

"Prowl was a mess." Smokescreen muttered. The younger Datsun couldn't help but wonder if this had a point coming anytime soon.

"Yeah?"

The older mech tilted his head in the other's direction. "…Jazz came to me a few weeks later; said Prowl was having nightmares about his past. Wouldn't give specifics, but he looked real freaked out."

"Okay, what does that have to-"

"Because, whoever was able to freak JAZZ out _and_ give Prowl nightmares has got to be one sick son of a slagger. I always tried to figure out who it was; I spent months pondering that and it practically drove me insane. I kept thinking it had to be the twisted ones like Skywarp or Hook, but both of them are idiots. Soundwave's hit-list really only centers on Blaster, and Starscream…Slagger won't leave Red alone." Bluestreak watched as Smokescreen chugged the last swill of energon in his cube before tossing it across the cell. "For the longest time, I figured it was Shockwave. He and Prowl seem to really hate each other, and the freak's experiments on mechs…it all kinda fit, you know?" The blue Datsun's injured optics narrowed the best they could. "But now I'm sitting here and I'm trying to find a reason behind all this," He waved to their surroundings. "And I can't. There is no reason for them to hold us prisoner without interrogating us and without demanding something from the Autobots as ransom."

Bluestreak's tanks were churning and he drew his knees up closer. "M-maybe they want Optimus to call them?"

Smokescreen rolled his shoulders, "No, remember? He tried after Blaster disappeared and there was no answer. He sent US out to find clues in case it wasn't the Decepticons."

A long stretch of silence followed as gears turned in Smokescreen's processor. "They're waiting for something. I'm assuming this is an under-the-table operation since I haven't heard word one from Megatron. His cronies are running this show…but why? What?"

More silence. Then it dawned on Bluestreak. Like the kind of dawn that you just know is going to be awful. "Not 'what', Smokey, who!"

Smokescreen had apparently already figured that out. "Those endearments Barricade was using for Prowl, they weren't there to just psyche him out, Prowl's what Barricade wanted all along. We're the bait and Prowl's the fish; and we fell for it…hook, line, and sunk…"

"But why? Doesn't he know that Prowl hates him? It's pretty obvious from where I'm standing!" Bluestreak all but cried, growing for concerned for his brother's safety with each passing word. Barricade had dragged Prowl and Jazz to Primus knows where; what was happening to them right now?! "Why now?! Why do this to have somebody who would sooner kill than kiss you?! It doesn't make any sense!"

Smokescreen looked at the other, "They must have history together from before the war and Barricade…Perhaps Barricade is obsessed and deluded into thinking Prowl's just playing a twisted game of hard-to-get? Or maybe Prowl knows something and Barricade doesn't want anyone to know and is determined to end it by any means necessary."

Bluestreak's face contorted in horror, "Y-you mean…?"

Smokescreen nodded. As the younger of the two pulled his knees in towards his chest, the defense tactician glanced towards the door with narrowed optics.

- - -

"You IDIOT! You stupid, fragging idiot!"

The red mech shuttered his optics, rough voice rasping out. "Stop yelling, Sunny, my head feels like its split in two."

"If I had my knife, _I'D_ split it in two!"

Sideswipe settled back into the warm side of his brother, tossing his empty cube across the room, enjoying the comforting heat and the hand settled firmly over his slashed chassis. "Missed you, too, bro." he sighed with a smug grin. He heard a growl behind him but thought nothing of it, until…

"Ouch!" Sideswipe threw his helm back to glare at his twin, who just shrugged "You had it coming." Sunstreaker inwardly smirked at the sight of his brother comically lolling his head around in sarcastic irritation "WEEE-LLL, _Thank-you_!"

Sideswipe huffed his vents, pouting unhappily "Primus, you're acting like Prowl!" Sunstreaker twitched and opened his mouth to more than likely snap at his twin, but what surprised the red warrior the most was that his twin recoiled and looked away with what could only be described as 'conflicted.'

"Prowl isn't acting like himself." Sideswipe reviewed Prowl's attributes: cold, calculating, and evil to the laser-core. Was there a down side to not acting like himself? The red twin allowed a cheeky smirk to cross his lips. "Well, explains why you were able to get past him."

"I didn't- _we_ didn't get past him, he came with us. He _lead_ us." Sunstreaker muttered, utterly wiping the smile from Sideswipe's face. Not only that, it nearly made Sideswipe's optics fall out and his jaw to the floor.

"What?!" Sideswipe's hoarse vocalizer strained to work at a much louder level as he looked back at his brother with nearly white optics, His yellow twin merely shrugged, "Me, Red, Skye, Blue, 'Hide, and Prowl."

Sideswipe's optics twitched and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "You got RED to leave his lair, too?! You're a miracle worker!"

Sunstreaker sighed, almost dejectedly; it certainly caught his wounded brother off guard "Not really. They came for their own reasons." Sideswipe snapped out of his analysis of his suddenly 'emotional' twin. "Huh?"

The yellow warrior looked over at his brother, completely deprived of sarcasm or anger. "Bondeds? Duh."

Sideswipe figured it was because he had been beaten (and whipped) senseless, but he couldn't quite understand what his brother was saying, let alone what was really going on. "Who?"

Sunstreaker's optics narrowed."Their bondmates!" the yellow twin all but yelled, voice raising in frustration.

His red twin's own frustration took its toll as he tried to piece together what was being said. "Which-who? WHAT?!" Sideswipe turned sharply and swatted his brother.

"ARE YOU GLITCHED?!" Sunstreaker shouted, pouncing on his twin, wounded or not. The two wrestled around until Sunstreaker had Sideswipe pinned on the floor on his front; arms held behind him. "I came all this way to save your sorry aft, AGAIN! But you scratch my paint and you'll wish the 'Cons had got to you before I did!" He warned.

Sideswipe laughed, ignoring the sting of his wounds "Ha! I've had to save your skidplate more times than I can count!"

"Not a very high number…" the golden twin laughed as his captive growled, only to be cut off as he was tossed off his perch and their petty struggle resumed.

- - -

Ironhide growled as he was gruffly lead along by Thrust and Dirge through the cold dungeon corridors, looking behind his shoulder every couple of turns to make sure his companion was alright. Skye was being escorted by the white femme, Whitenoise, who had a rough hold on the flier's wing. Ramjet followed, looking bored.

Whitenoise was hissing something into Skye's audio, every once in a while saying something aggressively enough for Ironhide to hear her. "…liar!...'s mine…betrayed…-ou will pay!..." Although, the words caused Ironhide to be uneasy, when he looked back at the teal femme behind him, she looked like the twins during a lecture by Prowl; uninterested and out of contact with the real world.

Rounding a corner, they came upon a dead end with a single cell door. The red and white cone-heads punched in a code on the pad next to the door, and brutally shoved the weapons specialist into its dark confines. Managing to land on his side, Ironhide glanced back to see Whitenoise with her claws at Skye's neck, now growling at her with threats of death and torture.

Ramjet sighed, leaning against the wall, "For the love of Primus, Noisy, frag her, slag her, or put her in there!"

The white femme whipped her head around and let out something between a snarl and a hiss before pushing Skye into the cell and hit the command for the door to close. The femme landed on her back, more specifically, her long wings, but didn't make a sound, nor gave a facial gesture.

Once in the dark, Ironhide pulled himself to his feet and extended a hand to the flier. Skye ignored it, rolled back, bringing her knees to her chest, and quickly thrusting them forward; effectively rolling herself to her feet, heels clacking on the cold floor. Ironhide scanned the room while the blue jet tended to her wounded wing, mumbling to herself in growls and grunts. The red warrior ignored her and continued his thermal scan of the room, just in case those 'Cons decided to put them in a cell full of…anything.

He easily picked up two weak signals at the rear of the large cell, whacking Skye on her arm and motioning for her to follow him. Taking slow, quiet steps, the two Autobots moved through the darkness in hopes to ambush their ambushers.

Though they lost their weapons, Ironhide still had his strength and Skyeraider had her spikes; both enough to kill, or at least severely damage their enemies. With that in mind, they stalked silently through scattered debris that was more than likely parts from some poor, unfortunate soul that had been dragged into the cell; they prayed it wasn't from their comrades.

Step by step, forced-calm breaths of cold air circulating, they moved until their sensory nets detected the back wall of the room. Readying themselves for a spring-trap, they crouched, and that's when Ironhide flickered on his headlights.

Their crouches dropped, and a twinge of horror crossed their face-plates. Ratchet lay curled on his side in the 'fetal' position, wrist twisted at an awkward angle, and blood oozing from gashes onto the floor into a puddle of metallic pink.

Blaster lay on his back, in not much of a better state than the medic besides him; gashes, cuts, and spilled blood, his Autobot insignia clawed off.

Ironhide was so stunned by the state of his bonded he couldn't even move, Skye found her nerve and crouched before Ratchet and put a hand on the medic's bloody shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Hey, Doc, its wake-up time, get your aft up!" Her voice quiet despite her words.

To Ironhide's great relief, the medic stirred and opened his optics, which emitted a dim glow. The medic attempted to look over his shoulder with a horrifying creak that instantly had Ironhide shutting off his headlights and kneeling at his side while Skye retreated and tended to Blaster.

Ratchet's optics widened at the presence of another mech near him and instantly squirmed, apparently trying to get to Blaster, quite likely to try and protect him, like Ironhide knew the medic's instinct would dictate him to do. The weapons master smiled faintly and laid a soft hand on Ratchet's wounded helm, stroking it softly in an attempt to calm the struggles.

"Yer more trouble th'n yer worth…" He chuckled softly, watching as his bondmate recognized his voice and stopped squirming. Meanwhile, Skye attempted to rouse Blaster, but to no avail; the stereo would not even stir. The femme panicked for a moment and looked to the couple having a mildly affectionate reunion next to her. Ironhide had leant down to cradle Ratchet's beaten body and place a peck on the white mech's audio.

"Ratchet." She called, breaking up their moment. The medic wearily looked over to the femme and then down at Blaster, and saw his condition.

Blaster's colors were starting to fade.

Startled, the medic wrestled himself from Ironhide's grip and crawled the short distance to the other pair. Ironhide came up behind him, "Wha? W-why's he dyin'? You aint like that!"

Ratchet had already started doing what he could to help the red and grey mech, which was nearly restricted to mending broken lines IF the material of the lines were able to mend back together with what flimsy heat he could generate all the while trying to explain in a raspy voice. "I'm a medic, 'Hide, I'm built to sustain damage. For Primus' sake, medics are designed to take parts from their own bodies to repair patients; I am capable of healing myself quickly and rerouting important fuel lines to survive; Blaster cannot do that, he sustained the damage and couldn't get his own self-repair system to work well; looks like it got damaged too." Ratchet frowned and pulled back, realizing he had done all he could. Ironhide put a hand on Ratchet's shoulder; Skye crawled upward to Blaster's helm, lifted it, and laid it down on her lap to give him some comfort.

Sighing, Ironhide remembered to Energon and wondered if it could help Blaster any. He pulled out the two cubes from sub-space and slipped them in front of Ratchet, depositing them into the medic's hands. The white and red mech stared down at the objects for a split second before setting one down and taking the other to Blaster's raised helm; opening the stereo's mouth and carefully pouring controlled amounts of the substance down the comatose mech's throat.

Once the last drop of pink fluid entered the stereos intake, Ratchet sat back on his legs with despair written on his face. Ironhide placed his hands on his mate's shoulders and drew him back to lean on his chest. Skye stroked her charges helm, wings folded back in a classy manner and optics downcast.

They stayed like that for a while, silent and unmoving except for Skye's hand and the occasional whisper between Ironhide and Ratchet. Eventually, Ironhide remembered the abandoned energon cube and handed it back to his mate, who hesitated before opening the cube and drawing a quiet sip from it. Ironhide lay his cheek to Ratchet's helm and allowed himself to bask in the knowledge that his long-absent mate was alive and in his arms.

Ratchet got tired of the silence and decided to take his mind off of Blaster's inevitable deactivation, and most likely, Jazz's as well; providing that the Porsche was still alive. Ironhide had conveyed much of the happenings of the Ark, the decision to leave, and their arrival to the Decepticon citadel to Ratchet over their bond- bringing the medic up to speed in current events. In turn, Ratchet told all he knew of Jazz, and his great guilt of letting Barricade take him away to Primus knows where. The red mech comforted his mate firmly, refusing to let the medic feel guilty for something that was beyond his power and control all the while masking his rage ate this 'Barricade' for what he had done to the Autobots.

"I'm surprised Wheeljack isn't with you lot, I'm sure he was in an uproar over you going, Skye." Ratchet teased from his place in Ironhide's arms as the weapons specialist gently massaged the twisted wrist-joint that ached and throbbed.

The blue femme's wings flickered agitatedly and he helm shot up at the remark. "What the frag are you talking about?"

Ironhide chuckled, "Shh, Ratch, that was supposed to be a secret! 'Jack's done a good job to hide his worry over his _girl_, didn't even mention comin' with us at all!"

Skye looked mortified and confused, "I ain't anybodies _girl_!"

Ratchet and Ironhide's playful smirks dropped. "You're not Wheeljack's mate?"

"Slag no! Why the hell does everybody think that?!" The femme growled, blue optics narrowing behind the transparasteel visor.

Ironhide and Ratchet exchanged glances, "Well, he's always got ya on his back…"

"I'm lazy and I don't like walking everywhere- he's always willin' to carry me."

"The fact that you're always together…"

"He's crazy, I'm crazy. We're two of a kind." Both mechs agreed that was a valid point.

"And…There is the fact that you're always kissin' him?" Ironhide offered.

Skye shrugged, the movement causing Blaster's head to bob almost comically. "Jazz used to kiss Prowl when they were friends, hell, the mech still kisses Blue and Percy and Bee!"

"Yes, but that was Jazz; it was kind of his thing."

Ironhide shook his head, "Wait, now, Ah remember 'Jack sayin' he had a mate- if it aint you, then who is it?"

Skye snorted in amusement of her own. "Your precious little baby."

The femme wisely covered Blaster's audios as the stunned look overtook Ratchet and Ironhide's face-plates; a storm of different emotions swimming in their optics. Even in Blaster's comatose state, he probably would have woken to the shriek the two released in unison:

"_WHAT?!" _

It had happened while the Autobots had been back on Cybertron, before Skyeraider had become part of the crew and much after Chromia's murder and Ironhide and Ratchet's bonding; a particularly vicious Decepticon attack on a small neutral colony had yielded nothing to the Autobot rescue parties, save for a handful of injured mechs and femmes. Among them was a mech who had barely reached adulthood; a student from the science academy, if the broken datapads found near him were anything to go by. He had been found with a damaged helm; his memory circuits broken beyond repair but not much else. When the youngling awoke, his lack of memory and new surroundings confused and frightened him to retreat into himself. Ratchet's sympathy and paternal instinct overtook the medic coding that was programmed into his CPU and he couldn't help but pity the poor thing- his records had been destroyed along with his city, erasing any connection to any family he may have and his memories gone with no hope of recovery. Ratchet had pleaded to keep the mech with him, on the grounds that he was mentally unstable and had become emotionally attached to him. Ironhide had fought with him to keep the youngling; trying to help the poor wretch bloom out of his shyness, he had taken the mech to the shooting range where the mech had informed Ironhide that he was definitely a pacifist and as they instead engaged in a conversation; the weapons specialist was impressed by the intense passion the mech had over his belief that the right knowledge could substitute for fighting to resolve things. The mech did have a few good ideas…

They decided then, that since no other had claimed the mech as their family; they legally adopted the youngling and named him after his irremovably cheery (not to mention intellectual) personality.

Perceptor.

Skyeraider smiled at the comical expressions that crossed each of the mechs face-plates as they tried to put together what they had been told; their adopted creation had hidden something as important as a bondmate from them? To the point where he had allowed others to believe his mate was with another bot?

Ironhide shook his helm disbelievingly, "Nuh-uh, no way! 'Ceptor wouldn't just go off and lie to us like that!"

Ratchet grimaced, "Technically, he didn't lie, he just didn't tell us anything and let us assume Wheeljack was bonded to Skye." Ratchet almost looked… disappointed, "But it just doesn't seem like something he would do. It's not that 'Jack's not a good mech, but slag, you'd think he'd tell us…"

Skye laughed, "Maybe he thought you'd kill 'Jackie if ya knew."

Ratchet and Ironhide both opened their mouths to retort, but then closed them and looked away awkwardly; realizing it was true, they would have cornered the engineer and threatened every part of his body if he dared to hurt their baby- even if they knew he wouldn't.

Skye had been musing over something in the meanwhile, facial expressions shifting from amused to thoughtful to frustrated to one of comical horror. Taking in a cycle of freezing air, she spoke; "Y'know I jus' remembered why Jackie told everyone that…" She smacked her lips, "Cuz both Perce and 'Jack threatened to dismantle me piece by piece while I'm still conscious. Cover up…right." She looked at the two next to her. "Oh yeah, wasn't supposed to tell you guys." She sighed, wings twitching, back slumping. "Well, I'm dead."

Ironhide snorted in enjoyment, they could tell other bots that Percy was their child and they would believe them; although shy and sweet, Perceptor could have quite a fierce temper- something he may have inherited from being around his ornery caretakers for so long. Wheeljack was the same way; although he had a way of just 'forgetting' experimental inventions with mechs that enraged him, which didn't happen very often save for the occasional irritation courtesy of Gears or Brawn. More than often, the engineer would simply have a chat with whoever had offended the normally upbeat mech.

Speaking of which; they were going to have to have a little 'chat' of their own with Wheeljack as soon as they got back.

If they got back, that is.

That thought coursed through his processor, and apparently everyone else's, and stole any merriment from them.

"We ain't getting' out of here, are we?" Skye mumbled, petting Blaster's helm sullenly.

Ironhide's arms involuntarily tightened around Ratchet, eyes closing, the medic looked back at his mate. Ironhide's faith in Optimus would never falter of die, but it was the fact that Prime may not be ABLE to get to them that caused the weapons specialist to doubt. If they were not rescued soon; Jazz would die, Blaster would die, Ratchet more than likely to follow rather quickly after that. The conditions of Inferno, Sideswipe, and Smokescreen were unknown, but more than likely, the three were just as bad off as they were.

Ratchet sighed and Skye's question went unanswered as they sat in the cold darkness.

- - -

Heaving a pleasant sigh, Prowl unshuttered his optics halfway. He lolled his head around to stretch his neck before doing so with his back and legs, his arms, however, stayed firmly in place.

Jazz was still curled against him; lying quietly in Prowl's warm embrace. The energon he had been fed earlier had rebooted his self-repair system and allowed for small injuries to be healed and the excessive bleed out to slow down a bit.

Sighing, the Datsun laid his helm back onto his mate's, listening to the sounds of Jazz's systems hum irregularly. He tried to remember happier times when he was safe back at the Ark, among friends and his bonded; with sweet ignorance to Barricade's ongoing subsistence. The wild parties that would be thrown for little to no reason, the numerous and amazing adventures all over Earth, his and Jazz's bonding…

Prowl flinched at the thought. What had he done? He should have predicted this; Barricade surviving, coming back for him! Now he damned his friends and lover to a gruesome death by extreme torture and there was seemingly no hope for salvation; unless Optimus and the other Autobots made a sudden rescue. Which, he already knew, was near impossible. Barricade had him- now he planned on keeping him and no doubt had already fortified the Decepticon defenses and readied the other Decepticons for an attack and retrieval operation. Prowl's optics narrowed; the twisted mech's malignant obsession with him drove every move that the interrogator made. And Barricade would no doubt give anything to have Prowl completely and wholly.

His thoughts were disrupted suddenly by approaching voices. They were speaking lod enough for him to hear that they were talking about Barricade and Megatron.

"'M surprised Megs hasn't found out yet." The voice sounded casual and lazy; Skywarp perhaps.

Prowl heard the other mech, or perhaps **another **mech, make a 'tch' sound. "That's because he's still pouting over the aft-kicking Optimus gave him last battle. 'Cade's got nothing to worry about as long as Megatron's still in his 'mood'."

The voices were leaving; fading into the distance. But not before hearing "And now that Cade's got his bitch back, we don't have to see his creepy mug around base! Everybody wins!" The mechs laughed as the left.

Bitch. Whore. _Slave_. Prowl's optics closed; he supposed he was all those things to Barricade, though the Saleen himself was twisted enough to think of Prowl as his loving bonded.

'_No,'_ Prowl thought bitterly, _'I have no more love for him than I do Megatron… I may even_ _**prefer**__Megatron over him.' _

A small smile took his lips before fading as quick as it came. Oh, Primus, What had he _**done**_?! He hadn't taken in any energon for fear that he would just vomit it back up; his tanks were in nervous turmoil. Flashes of his time as Barricade's bondmate flew before his optics and he shuddered under their power; it was all going to happen again…

"Prowl_?" _A small, weak voice rasped from his front, the Datsun looking down to see his bonded rousing and beginning to move a bit. Jazz's vocalizer must have been self-repaired with the aid of his previous re-energizing.

Without a thought he wanted to ask how Jazz was feeling, but he knew he already knew the answer. In an attempt to get any words out at all, he asked anyway. "Jazz, how do you feel?"

Jazz was stretching his limbs the best he could without removing himself from Prowl's warming embrace. "Mm, better than I was…" the Porsche looked up at him through his cracked and broken visor, "What about you, babe, you were shakin' earlier."

Prowl felt an obligation to hide his fears for Jazz's sake. A small smile slipped unconsciously onto his features, "I was simply worried that you had not awoken yet and was debating on waking you or not." He hoped his answer was enough to suffice Jazz's curiosity.

It wasn't. It never had a shot. Jazz removed himself from Prowl's arms and turned, slowed with pain, to face his bonded. He attempted to get to his knees to kneel before Prowl and was assisted by two white hands steadying him by grasping his hips. Jazz's own hands reached up to cup Prowl's face and tilt it upward to look him in the optics that were hidden behind the ruined visor.

"It's ok to be scared, Prowl …but Prime'll get us outta here, I know he'll come…" Jazz was desperately trying to convince him and himself at the same time. Despite his own fears, Jazz pushed them aside for his bonded's sake. Prowl smiled, touched, albeit ashamed of his selfishness; here Jazz was, wounded, barely alive, and very much afraid, but still able to protect Prowl from his darkest thoughts and all he could do was wallow in his misery. He gently wrapped his arms around Jazz's wounded middle, pulling him close and cradling this precious mech in his arms.

"You're right, Optimus will come for us, and we'll be just fine." He nuzzled ad Jazz's audio before placing a quick kiss to it. Jazz nodded and gently lowered himself to the floor without disrupting their union.

"I'm sorry, Jazz." Prowl whispered in the cold darkness.

The Porsche was contenting himself with Prowl's warm chassis and paused his movements when he heard this. He looked back up at his mate, "For what?"

"All this. Barricade's doing it because of me. Now you and the others are in danger-"

"Didn' we just go over this? We're goin' ta be alright, Prowler, I swear we are. Now no more depressin' talk or your vocals are gonna be mine." Jazz cut off sternly as he continued his leeching of Prowl's body heat. Although Prowl took it as a joke, he knew Jazz could and would do as he threatened if need be. Despite Jazz's charming wiles and attractive appearance, he was deadly to a fault and much smarter than most bots would give him credit for. Prowl himself hadn't given him much of a positive thought when they first met and widely regretted it. That had been during the first major meeting of the Autobot Officers after a ferocious siege on Praxus.

He was the last Officer to arrive, and besides Optimus, he knew nobody. Prowl expected the other officers to be conserved and respectable; but instead met a medic screaming at the weapons specialist because he had the communication's officer in a stranglehold while the security director was suffering from a glitch attack from their antics. The only one holding still was another black and white, who was lying with a cheeky smile on the meeting table playing loud music and swinging his hand around to the beat. To say that his first impression of the Autobots was a bad one was the understatement of his life.

"'S aint your fault, Prowlie, Barricade woulda done this regardless." Jazz murmured into his neck quietly.

"Maybe not to you…" Prowl whispered back.

Jazz looked back up at him, "He'd do it ta any Autobot: Blue, Percy, Bee-"

"If I had never left him, he would have no reason to!" Prowl cried, distress and fear leaking through his calm façade so suddenly it actually caused Jazz to jump in surprise; which only aggravated his wounds, causing him the whine in pain. The Datsun immediately quieted himself and muttered an apology to his poor, abused mate. Sighing sadly, he figured they both had been unconscious for a couple of hours, and that their captor was probably about ready to come and torture them more.

Prowl decided that if Barricade was to be coming for them soon, that he might as well tell Jazz every secret he had been holding before the warped Saleen would have a chance to twist the truth into a morbid lie.

"Jazz?" a hum greeted his inquiry, "There's something I've wanted to tell you."

Jazz had lain his helm down of Prowl's shoulder and nuzzled the Datsun's neck as a response. "Wa's that, Prowler?"

Prowl drew in a shaky breath of cold oxygen for courage. "W-when we, I mean Barricade and I, were bonded…We…" Prowl looked away in an attempt to get as far away from Jazz as possible without actually letting him go, "…We had conceived a child…"

Jazz's head snapped up rather quickly, so fast it made Prowl wonder if the wound on the Porsche's neck hurt him as a result. "You had a sparklin'?!" Jazz all but cried out.

Prowl nodded, still unable to look at his love, "Yes, back on Cybertron, before I joined the Autobots."

A hesistant quiet, and then; "…Barricade was the father…" It wasn't a question, more like a realization. Prowl could only nod as a result, not trusting his own voice.

"Why didn't ya tell me?" Though not accusing, the question wasn't exactly gentle, causing Prowl to grimace.

Prowl winced at the thought of his poor child's spark; the only consolation being it was with Primus now and Barricade couldn't taint it. "…it…hurts to talk about, but…I think it was also that I really didn't want you to know…"

Jazz's visor dimmed a bit, "Oh…" The Porsche looked away, trying to digest the information bestowed on his unstable form; His beloved bondmate had a child with a monster…"W-what happened to it?"

"Him."

"Ah."

Prowl shook his head as memories bombarded his processor.

_Prowl hummed to himself with a smile as he paced the room that would soon become the nursery for their sparkling. For now, the nearly-detached spark lay resting inside his spark chamber; at peace and full of unknowing love for the parents he would soon meet. Prowl's song ended and the black and white turned to look out the window to the grand view of Praxus. The city's lights created a serene glow that bathed the room and relaxed its inhabitant and the mech standing at its doorway. Prowl didn't hear the footsteps approaching him, not realizing he wasn't alone until two black arms carefully encircled him._

_Prowl jumped and craned his head to look at his visitor only to be greeted with two, soft, ruby-red optics and a loving smile across handsome faceplates. "Hello, dear one." A smooth voice flowed from the thin lip components. Prowl smiled and relaxed in his bondmates arms, "Hello, yourself." He replied._

_He turned back to the window, but Barricade never turned his gaze away from him. Prowl gazed dreamily at the stars looming above the skyscrapers and at the moon that barely peaked over the horizon. "Beautiful, isn't it? It makes you want to stare at it forever…"_

"_Hm, maybe," Barricade turned Prowl around to face him, "I'd much rather stare at something else, though; something much, much more beautiful." Prowl smiled and would have blushed if he could have, but his faceplates heated up at the compliment. His spark fluttered softly, gently rousing the sparkling inside of it and causing a small whirr of activity to remind Prowl that he was trying to rest._

"'_Cade…" If Prowl had planned on saying anything else it was cut short by a pair of lips on his own. Prowl hummed softly as he returned it. One of Barricade's hands travelled to rest at his spark chamber while the other slipped around the mech's middle and drew him close. "I love you." Barricade whispered between kisses, "I love you so, my beloved."_

_Between his own breaths and kisses, Prowl responded eagerly, "I love you, too, Barricade, so, so much…"_

_Barricade moaned and deepened the kiss enthusiastically, bringing the hand that rested on Prowl's back to the back of the white helm and forcibly deepening it. Prowl, used to such behavior, merely took it as a sign of adoration and passionate affection and allowed it, not even noticing the hand on his spark chamber tightening. _

"When Barricade…_turned_…he…" Prowl swallowed another cycle of icy air, "…ripped him…_out_…"

Jazz's head snapped up again, this time he looked absolutely mortified, "H-he r-ripped out his spark?!" Jazz's voice was somewhere between a whisper and a shriek; quietly said, but with much emphasis behind it.

"No!" Prowl's optics started to tear, still unable to look at Jazz directly. He let out a muffled sob, "Barricade ripped his spark out of _**me**_."

Jazz looked horrified and disgusted, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something. Prowl started to shake as he desperately tried to keep himself from crying at the thought of his poor sparkling.

_Prowl gasped as Barricade's claws dug into his chassis, trying to open his spark chamber. Prowl attempted to push Barricade away a small bit but the larger black mech pushed back and managed to press Prowl against the windows of the nursery. The mech's digits began clawing at the carrying mech's spark chamber, apparently desperate to get inside. "Oh, Prowl…" Barricade moaned through his kisses, "I love you; I love you so…say you love me, too." The claws finally found a seam and pulled, ripping Prowl's armor right off and delving into the warmth of the chamber beneath it. _

_Prowl screamed into Barricade's kiss as his armor was forcibly removed and his spark was molested by an unforgiving hand. Confusion and panic took over his processor as he tried to figure out why his bondmate was hurting him like this and also trying to figure out a way to get it to __**stop**__. He was brought back to reality by his sparkling's link with him being filled with a primitive form of alarm, from Barricade's touches or his own distress, he could not tell. "Barricade!" He managed to get out between rough kisses, "S-stop! W-what are you doing?!" _

_Barricade did not answer, merely repeating his earlier demand; this time tracing patterns, almost menacingly, around the transpara-steel casing of Prowl's spark. "Tell me that you love me, Prowl, say it…"_

_Self-preservation kicking in, Prowl decided it was best to appease his bonded anyway possible, now also fearing for his sparkling's life with Barricade touching his spark like that. "I-I love you, 'Cade, you know that!" Barricade paused and reared back to look at the black and white directly, staring at him for what felt like an eternity, and then:_

_Prowl's optics widened as an unmistakable agony raced through his entire being. He couldn't feel anything, couldn't think, couldn't speak. He felt his sparkling; the little child's fear and desperation and then…nothing, only more pain, more agonizing, paralyzing pain. Barricade withdrew his hand, his bloody hand. _

_In his claws, their child's spark. Prowl stared at it as it flickered for a mere moment, and then it went dark. Prowl didn't even realize he had been crying as tears fell from his optics in waves._

Clutching at Jazz, who returned the pressure as best as he could, Prowl openly sobbed as recalled the horrid memory. His spark had become unstable after Barricade had ripped the sparkling out, his systems started to go offline and he fell unconscious; during which, Barricade had left- and had started a fire in their apartment as well.

It had been the last time he had seen his bondmate until he had shown himself once more, as a Decepticon, on Earth.

Firefighting mechs had found him by sheer miracle and had taken him to a medical center where he spent the next orn struggling to survive. The medics had told him that the only reason he had even survived the fire was that the fluids that covered him were not flammable. It hardly had mattered to him at the time; with his bondmate gone and his sparkling dead, he had wanted to die so badly. It was a **sheer miracle **that he hadn't taken his life to begin with.

"He never stood a chance…he never even got to be born…" Prowl managed through his tears, the memory all too painful for him.

Jazz, on the other hand, was doing his very best to keep the wildfire that was his anger down so he wouldn't scare Prowl any. It was no wonder Prowl was so afraid of Barricade! All the things that that evil Saleen did to the Datsun would have been more than any other mech could have handled, and yet Prowl had bore those awful scars by himself all this time…he had even come to face the object of his nightmares. Jazz's guilt and pity skyrocketed as he allowed Prowl to release his pent up sadness and despair through crying all the while holding him as tightly as he could and softly murmuring gentle assurances.

They sat there for a while and eventually Prowl's cries subsided, his doors drooped almost painfully. Jazz knew it had taken a lot of courage for Prowl to have told him that, to have even admitted it! It made Jazz a little uncomfortable; not so much what Prowl had told him but the fact that Prowl had told him period. Thinking for a moment, the Porsche broke the silence;

"You're not my first mate."

Prowl opened his optical shutters to look at Jazz. "What?" The Porsche simply smiled softly and reached up to wipe the remaining tear trails away.

"You're my fifth. First bonded, though, rest of 'em kinda went south on me…" Prowl really didn't like the way his bonded had spoken the word 'south'.

"Why?" He also could not figure out why any bot in the universe would want to hurt a lovely creature like Jazz; sweet, charming, faithful Jazz.

With the smile still plastered to his face, Jazz simply shrugged "Dunno. I was still in the academy 'n decided to have a little fun behind Prime's back." Jazz shifted, almost uncomfortable at saying such a thing, and then frowned in thought, "Lemme see, First 'un left me right after we interfaced, second was a femme, an' I caught her in bed with anotha mech, Third; he, erm…pulled a Barricade…" Jazz looked away but resumed speaking before Prowl could say anything, "Last one was my longest, he was a violent drunk, wasn't 'till he got arrested that I got away from him." Jazz finally looked up at the face of his beloved and suddenly felt like he didn't deserve to even _touch_ Prowl. He released the Datsun and tried to get Prowl to do the same to him, "Sorry.", he muttered softly and looked away, now too ashamed to look his mate in the optics. He suddenly felt so drained and didn't have the strength to resist all too much.

The white arms around him refused to release him, "Does Optimus know?"

Jazz looked up at Prowl, surprised at the calm and soft tone of the usually stoic tactician. After a brief moment, Jazz's sad smile took hold of him again as he shook his head. "Nope, kinda scared of what he'd think of me. Back then, I really just wanted to do something risky without having three overprotective caretaker's breathin' down my neck, ya know?" Prowl chuckled at the mental image of Optimus, Ratchet, and Ironhide stalking Jazz as he went on a date with another bot. Jazz smiled more like his true self at the sound of Prowl's quiet laughter and snuggled back into the warmth of Prowl's chassis. "Wish I hadn't, though, but I didn't think I'd meet the perfect mech…"

Prowl smiled at the words, spark warmed in happiness at their kind effect. "Nor did I." He whispered into Jazz's audio as he nuzzled it softly. Through their fragile bond, a soft but strong feeling of love coursed between them.

Jazz, from his place under Prowl's chin, murmured into the white mech's neck cables "He said ya didn't love me…"

If it weren't for the deathly silence that filled the room, the Datsun probably would not have been able to hear the quiet words. He had, though, and after a moment of subtle shock, Prowl felt his anger spike.

"He said what?"

Jazz removed himself from Prowl's neck to look up at his mate. "Barricade said that you don't really love me; that you just picked me to bond with cause I loved you after what he did to you."

Barricade dare say such a thing?! Prowl's doorwings rose once more in agitation. With a soft inhale and exhale of icy air, Prowl calmed himself for Jazz's sake and leaned in to take Jazz's lips in a soft kiss.

Once it ended, Prowl connected their foreheads and looked at Jazz's mutilated optics through the shattered visor. "I do love you, Jazz. Don't let that maniac tell you any different." Jazz attempted to say something, but was cut off by Prowl's digit laying across his lips. "I love you. I'm not a fool, Jazz, just because Barricade did that to me doesn't mean that my judgment was impaired. I fell for you like a love-struck youngling because…because you were just so amazing and perfect and wonderful and…" Prowl stopped himself, paused, and then kissed the finger over Jazz's lips.

"When we get back to the Ark, I plan on showing you just how much I love you…" The Datsun teased playfully, causing Jazz to smile as well, "After you are repaired and Ratchet, Ironhide, and Prime scream your audios off for all of this…and then there's Red Alert you get to deal with…" Prowl chuckled at the loud groan Jazz released at the thought of going head to head with the Security Director.

Prowl snorted in amusement and watched Jazz's helm clunk back down onto Prowl's shoulder, where the tactician promptly placed a kiss on his cheek. Jazz peeked up at his general direction, "Promise?"

Prowl lowered his helm to lay next to Jazz's, "Swear."

Jazz nodded softly as his visor dimmed, Prowl realized the energon was losing its effect. If Jazz was not given medical treatment soon, he would die…

Prowl forced himself not to think of such a thing, "Go to recharge, Jazz, I won't let anything happen to you."

Jazz sighed softly, exhaling warm breath onto Prowl's neck and shoulder. Offlining his visor, he muttered "Tell me you love me…"

Prowl smiled and tightened their embrace softly, saying the words Jazz wanted to hear, the words he truly meant. "I love you, Jazz. My sweet Jazz…I can't be without you, you mean too much to me. I'll love you as long as I continue to function." He pet the saboteur's helm softly and gave the horn nearest him a kiss. "Now get some rest, you need it."

The Porsche didn't need much coaxing, he was utterly exhausted. Fitfully and restlessly, Jazz shut down into a light recharge. Prowl watched his mate sleep soundly, desiring nothing more than for the two of them to be back in their quarters at the Autobot base, safe and recharging peacefully in their berth.

"How sweet, very lovely last words, my beloved."

The voice echoed behind him suddenly, though it didn't startle Prowl in the least; he figured he was being watched all this time. It surprised him how very similar Barricade and Jazz's voices were, except his bonded's voice had a rasp and lacked the malice and false sweetness Barricade's had; an improvement in Prowl's optics.

Prowl stroked the poor wretch's helm, spark aching at the sight of the wounds that had been inflicted on that faultless body on his part. "Lovely, isn't he? It almost hurt to do that to him."

He ignored the footsteps as they sounded from behind him but was unable to ignore the obviously wicked presence sitting directly behind him. The empty cube that Jazz had thrown away earlier appeared in a clawed hand as two arms wrapped themselves tightly around his middle

"A smart maneuver, dear one, but if afraid it won't do him much good at all in his state; it merely delayed his suffering and the inevitable." A deep, baritone voice rumbled close to his audio. Prowl's head dropped further, his shoulders tensing, doorwings trying to raise in agitation as he shuttered his optics and bit back a whine as he realized his ex-bondmate's words were true; Jazz would not be able to survive much longer, the wounds would have no doubt developed several viruses that were probably ravaging the Porsche's depleted firewalls, further dwindling his chance for survival.

Thoughts and ideas clashed in his processor, but no matter how many plans he came up with- they all lead to the same outcome. Prowl bit his lip as he realized that it was now one way or another, and one of them involved Jazz's death as an outcome. Barricade had already slipped himself from around Prowl and had stood quietly behind him, looking for a reaction.

With a shudder, the Datsun gently laid Jazz on the floor, stood with fallen wings, and turned to face his nightmare incarnate. Prowl choked down all his revulsion, resentment, and terror for and of this wicked mech, as well as a cycle of frigid air. "If you…Let them go…**alive** _and_ **functioning**, then …I'll stay." He swallowed a breath of cold air. "I'm yours." The tactician lowered himself to the floor and bowed submissively to prove it. Barricade grinned.

ARTISTS COMMENTS- IM MAKING THE AUTOBOTS SOUND LIKE A BUNCH OF MOUNTAIN INBREEDS ARENT I?

SPARK IN THIS STORY IS LIKE A CRYSTAL


	9. Homecoming

**Homecoming**

"Prowl, don't do this!" Ratchet pleaded, the medic trying to get a look at the mech behind him through his damaged optic as he limped along. Ironhide's strong arms kept ushering his bonded along with the usual prods of Decepticon rifles to their backs.  
Prowl kept his voice silent and his optics downcast as he held the weakly thrashing Jazz in his arms. The undamaged black and white had been escorted to each of their cells by Barricade and informed the prisoners that they would be returning to Autobot territory immediately for recovery and medical evacuation.  
He had also, in an almost _casual_ tone, informed them that he would be staying behind as payment for his companion's freedom.  
To say they were horrified was an understatement. They all protested loudly in the halls until they were silenced by brute force, which Prowl did not object to. Barricade loomed behind Prowl like a wicked puppet master controlling his innocent victim, and as the other Autobots all but begged Prowl not to do this, that he would be killed and worse, he simply kept restating that_ 'This is for the better, anyway.' _Prowl explained that he had done nothing but cause suffering to the Autobots and that his skills as a tactician were miniscule and could quite easily be replaced. Barricade occasionally contributed to the tactician's refusal to return with them, telling the Autobots that this was where Prowl belonged anyway.  
The only time during their long trek to the exit of the fortress that the Datsun had shown any emotional response was when the Saleen behind him didn't take a comment made by Jazz very well.  
"Y-You si-ick bastard…"the Porsche wheezed from panic and depleted energy, "H-he don-n't want ya and ya kno-ow it! L-leave him alo-one!" The tiny grin that had played upon the Decepticon's lips all this time was immediately wiped away and a snarl taking its place. "Wretched little whore!" Barricade reached around Prowl to slap Jazz hard across his faceplates. Prowl whipped his head around to glare at his ex-bondmate with heated anger, so much so that Barricade actually stood down.  
As they reached the light of the exit, the Autobots began squirming uncomfortably; both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked back at the Datsun regretfully, Skye's wings quivered to and fro, and Red Alert simply twitched.  
Ratchet leaned heavily on Ironhide, resting his weight in the weapon specialist's arms. "This doesn't make sense…" Ratchet muttered quietly, drawing his bonded's attention, "They capture us all just to let us go?"  
Ironhide's engine rumbled darkly as he mulled Ratchet's words over,_ 'not all'a us…'_ he thought but didn't dare to say. "That's a 'Con's mind for ya."  
Next to them, Skye's arms tightened around Blaster's stereo form to the point where they could hear Blaster's armor cracking. With Ratchet's help, they had managed to transform the unresponsive mech to make it easier to transport him within Skye's cockpit.  
Behind them, Soundwave had reappeared once more, only to silently stalk behind the group; red visor glowing ominously in the dark corridor that was slowly becoming brighter.  
The exit yielded a steep slope to the desert below causing the injured Autobots to internally groan; all of their legs had been purposely cut to restrict movement, which would make this hard for them to trek. Jazz and Blaster were lucky to be carried.  
The prodding encouragements of the purple-marked soldiers behind them forced their start. Of all the Autobots, Red Alert seemed to be having the hardest time; so much so that Bluestreak ceased his hovering over the defiant Smokescreen to assist the security mech. Ironhide, seeing how Ratchet was having trouble with standing, let alone walking, saw fit to sweep his bonded up into his arms.  
Jazz continued to protest as they descended onto the flat, not giving up his attempts to escape Prowl's grip. "S-stop! Do-on't!" He cried desperately.  
Desperate. They all were desperate for themselves and each other.  
They all eventually reached the flat of the desert on shaky and hesitant legs; all looking at each other nervously.  
The Decepticons watched from the rise as the wounded group of Autobots converged around Prowl and Jazz.  
"P-Prowler, ple-ease, don' do this…" Jazz cried out brokenly, tears finally erupting at the realization that this was actually happening.  
The Datsun smiled grimly, "I'm sorry, Jazz, I have to. You'll all die if you stay."  
A sob wracked the saboteur, "B-but He'll k-kill ya if ya l-leave yourself with him…"  
Prowl shuttered his optics halfway, looking around at the others, "My only concern is the safety of you and the others."  
"Prowl, please, we-" Sideswipe started.  
"I-I wanna s-stay with you!" Jazz broke out, interrupting the red twin.  
It was a surprise to all of them when the Datsun let put a humorless laugh, smiling down at the broken saboteur. "You stupid 'bot, have you been listening to me at all? I would never ask that of you."  
"Well, I ain't a-askin'!"  
Prowl ignored his mate and turned to the other Autobots, "Transform, the lot of you." With glances at each other, they silently obeyed; turning themselves away from the Decepticon base and the two spark-broken mechs.  
In a hushed whisper, Prowl continued, "I also can't ask you to forgive me, Jazz, for everything I've caused, but… you're more dear to me than my own life; I love you," The last part of that sentence was spoken softer than the rest."And that's why I have to let you go."  
"No!" Jazz cried, his distress escalating with every passing moment.  
Prowl's smile widened, but not through elation, "You were better off without me anyways. Just look what I got you into…some bonded I am…"  
The Autobot's engines revved to life as Jazz tried to muffle a sob, "Prowl…" The Porsche's once beautiful, baritone voice was choked with unbridled emotion. Prowl memorized that lovely face, only wishing Jazz was sporting his lovely trademark smile and the tears and cracks in that usually bright visor were gone.  
"Goodbye, Jazz." He leaned down and brought his mate up a little to place a kiss on the black helm. Skillfully, Prowl slithered his hand up to the wounded neck joint and slipped his fingers around a power line. Jazz realized what the tactician was doing and fought like he saw Unicron, "No! Don't!"  
"I'll remember you…" With a swift tug, the line popped out of its port; Jazz froze before going completely limp.  
Smokescreen spoke up from his vehicle mode, "Prowl, what are you-?"  
"I've convinced Barricade to release you all; you're free to make it to the border of Autobot territory. Optimus has been contacted and will meet you there with help to get you back home." Prowl droned automatically, not looking up from Jazz's face.  
"What about you?" Ironhide's voice actually was drenched with emotion- anguish more than anything.  
Prowl's optics shuttered entirely, taking in a shaking breath, "I am home."  
Sideswipe's engine revved in protest, "Prowl, no! You-!"  
Prowl was apparently not very keen on the idea of letting anyone finish their sentences, for he interrupted yet again. "Ratchet, can you manage?" He asked the silent medic softly, holding out the knocked out saboteur.  
"Yeah, sure," Ratchet opened his back door, allowing Jazz inside. "Y…You're serious about this?" Sacrifice was not unheard of in the Autobot army; every 'bot made sacrifices at one time or another, but Ratchet had never seen one like this- A Decepticon bartering away eleven prisoners to obtain one, not for information or value, but for a twisted idea of affection? Ratchet feared for Prowl, he didn't want to leave the mech in the hands of another so deranged and mad.  
Prowl nodded, his classic stoic expression claiming his face, "I am. Please go, you all need repairs." Once Jazz was safely tucked inside Ratchet, Prowl reached for the door but paused for a moment to take one last look at his bonded with pained optics. Closing them, he shut the door and stepped back from the convoy.  
"…Brother…" Bluestreak whined. If the young gunner had been in bipedal form, he would no doubt be shaking as yet another important person in his life left him.  
Prowl mustered the tone of voice he used on the twins whenever they did something stupid, "That's an order." Whether he was choosing to stay or not did not make his rank any less powerful. Even if it _was_ his last order.  
It was enough for them to at least honor the command, or perhaps they treated it like a final request, regardless, the Autobots revved their engines and took off at a moderate speed so the wounded could keep up easily. Prowl watched them go, silently praying to Primus that they all made it back to the Ark safely…  
Cycling a breath of air to calm his systems, he bid them a muttered farewell as footsteps sounded behind him. A black pair of arms slithered around his waist and a helm nuzzled at his neck, but Prowl did not respond, trying to force back the memories.  
"There now, you got what you wanted," Prowl's hands tightened at that soft, deceptively gentle voice "Now for what I get in return…"  
The Datsun only held up for a mere moment before he forcibly relaxed and put his own white hands over the claws; utterly surrendering.  
He could feel Barricade grin against his neck cables, "That's better." Barricade left his throat to kiss the former tactician's cheek-plate, "Welcome home, dear one."  
Barricade didn't notice the trickle on fluids down the opposite side of Prowl's face.

Optimus Prime stood at the border of Autobot territory scanning the horizon for dark silhouettes, around him, the other soldiers murmured quietly amongst themselves, not daring to make any loud noises. For what reason, he did not know.  
Two hours ago, He had received a private communiqué from Soundwave. The Decepticon had not let him even speak, simply stating that Barricade was releasing the injured Autobots and that they would need assistance at the border to make it home. He also quickly stated that Prowl would not be among them as he was staying as payment. With that, the screen had gone blank, leaving the commander speechless. After he had fought back his shock and anger enough for his to regain control of his body functions he gathered a team and disembarked from their base.  
Now he stood with barely bridled emotion which emanated from him, making the others stand away from him. Perceptor and Wheeljack were standing close to one another; probably trying to mask their conjoined hands, which wasn't going so well. Mirage stood with hands on Bumblebee's shoulders, both not speaking or moving. Hound and Trailbreaker were conversing quietly with grimaces and frowns, as were Beachcomber and Hoist. The Dinobots stood impatiently behind them all, waiting for the return of their co-creator; though their true purpose for being there was in case the Decepticons decided to try something…  
Although, with his current anger, Optimus would have been more than willing to rip apart one of those purple-marked heathens, for all they had done to his soldiers; the trauma, the pain and humiliation…  
Oh! How he wanted to punch something with all his strength! To be rid of all this tense anger and the overwhelming feeling of uselessness! He should have done something sooner; attacked the opposing base and retrieve the imprisoned mechs, bring them back to where they would be safe away from that maniac Barricade! Instead, he had let his friends walk into a living Hell, where only Primus knows what was happening to them; death? Torture?  
Optimus suppressed a shudder as visions of blood and gore danced across his mind; not noticing a shout behind him. In fact, he didn't snap out of his thoughts until Hound laid a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jolt and reach for his rifle.  
"Uh, you ok, sir?" Hound looked at him with concern.  
Optimus cycled a breath of cool morning air and nodded slowly, "Yes, yes…" Letting his tense grip ease slightly, he looked over the equally discomforted green scout.  
Hound removed his hand and pointed to the far distance, "Perce just spotted ten bots, coming in slow at ten o'clock."  
The commander stiffened involuntarily even though he had been anticipating this since they arrived at the border.  
They all watched in silence as the dark blots on the horizon became more idiosyncratic, revealing the lost and missing Autobots, some damaged, others not.  
The convoy slowed down from its already slow speed to a complete stop before their comrades, having no more strength to move. Ratchet and Skye relieved themselves of their charges before shifting back into their bipedal forms, as the rest had already done, and they were immediately swarmed by their teammates and helped to the ground.  
Wheeljack and Perceptor fussed over Ratchet and Ironhide, mostly trying to repair the medic so he would be able to assist them with the others. Optimus watched as the medic and weapons specialist threw a glare at Wheeljack for some strange reason once Perceptor had rushed to his 'parents'; he also saw Grimlock and the other Dinobots simply standing where they were before, only now more relaxed and at ease. Mirage and Bumblebee raced to Jazz's side, horrified at their commander's state and babbling reassurances to the barely conscious mech. Blaster's cassettes, who had been left behind in the Ark that fateful day the stereo had left on his break, rushed to Skye; despairing as they saw the condition of their creator. Hound assisted Red Alert in carrying the limping Inferno to them while Ratchet had plenty of help making his way to the others. Smokescreen managed to move on his own, though that didn't stop Bluestreak from walking by him to make sure. Since Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were bickering about nothing in particular, everyone assumed they were fine without actually hearing what they were arguing about.  
A lone pair of optics looked over the returned Autobots with a mix of bittersweet joy and anguish as they noticed that not all who left had returned.  
Optimus regarded his tortured soldiers sadly before closing his optics and looking away as it became all too painful for him. "Autobots, get the wounded situated; prepare to roll for home…"  
He turned away from the sight, only to be halted by a weak call of his designation. He turned to see Jazz, struggling past Mirage and Bumblebee. "Y-ya can't…l-leave 'im …"  
Optimus watched as the damaged mech struggled to stand on his own, quite literally on his last legs. An ache of parental apprehension pulsed through his spark at the sight of his adopted youngling's blood dripping from his once pristine frame. He saved Jazz effort and hurried to his side, taking hold of the Porsche by his arms. "I'm sorry Jazz, we have no choice." He said as softly as possible.  
Jazz snapped his head up, blood dribbling down his neck, "Liar!" His raspy voice even raspier from the abuse he'd suffered. Even with the visor over his optics, Optimus could still feel the glare the saboteur was leveling at him, and he could not say that he didn't deserve it…  
"Jazz, you and the others are badly wounded, you need repairs." He attempted to reason, but it utterly failed.  
Jazz clenched his dentals, "A-an… what'a 'bout y-you? Why wo-on't you help 'im?" Mirage and Bumblebee struggled to keep an even grip on Jazz as he, in turn, struggled against them, trying to get at Optimus.  
"Jazz, please, we'll come back for Prowl but everyone needs to be repaired or they'll die!" Bumblebee pleaded. Mirage joined in as he adjusted his grip, "But you are delaying that, Jazz. And if we don't go soon, Ratchet and Blaster may die, as will you…Then who will rescue Prowl?"  
Jazz stopped his struggles, and for a moment he was still. But as Optimus attempted to speak, the saboteur began to shudder violently.  
Jazz became dead weight, though still online, and almost dropped to the ground, if the three bots hadn't been holding him; the shudders grew more violent until it seemed the mech would simply shake himself apart.  
"Wheeljack!" Optimus cried as he lowered Jazz to the ground and lay him on his mostly unharmed back, though both Wheeljack and Perceptor were already running towards them.  
The Lancia dropped next to the convulsing mech and helped Optimus hold Jazz down while Perceptor pinpointed the cause of the Porsche's distress. After a quick scan, the scientist forced Jazz's chest plates to open to reveal his spark; which was convulsing and almost stretching this way and that like something inside it was trying to escape.  
Perceptor and Wheeljack stared in horror, Optimus shouted to the others to roll out, on the double.

**-Meanwhile-**  
Megatron was not happy. And usually whenever he was unhappy, Starscream was in pain. But not this time. This time; Barricade lay crumpled and bleeding beneath his feet.  
The warlord had ruthlessly beaten the Saleen for more than three hours while the rest of the Decepticons had looked on silently out of fear of being harmed themselves. Prowl was watching on as well, being held by Thundercracker and Skywarp in grips loosened by awe; optics half-shuttered and uninterested, but he watched and suppressed a smirk. _'Nothing short than what he deserves.' _He couldn't help but think bitterly.  
"You stupid, little ingrate! Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out about your little get-together?" Megatron growled as he delivered a particularly vicious kick to the Saleen's abdomen. "What do you have to say?"  
Barricade coughed up a bit of blood before looking up at his leader, "I was just reclaiming what was mine by any means necessary, my lord."  
Megatron snarled and grabbed the black mech by his neck cabling and hauled him upward until they were face to face, "And what makes you think I'll allow you to keep him?" He gestured for Prowl, who was brought roughly forth by the two seekers, "By capturing the Autobot's third, you've guaranteed their return for his rescue!"  
"Scared of a few Autobots, Megatron?" Starscream mocked from his perch in the rafters with the cassetticons and the coneheads.  
The warlord, however, was not in the mood to deal with disobedience at the moment. With a glare that could kill, Megatron hoisted his cannon and shot his Air Commander square in the chest, much to Prowl's surprise, before turning back to Barricade. Starscream screeched and squawked as he flailed on the floor, but the rest of the Decepticons ignored him.  
The Saleen calmly began speaking again, "He is the offense tactician, my lord, imagine what plans he has stored in his memory banks! He could very well be our key to victory!"  
Megatron did not respond and appeared to be mulling it over. Prowl quickly interjected, "I will never betray the Autobots! There's nothing you can do to make me talk!"  
Barricade leered at the Datsun, "Or so you think, my dear." Prowl did not like the way he said that, nor how long Megatron had been silently thinking.  
After a moment, the warlord narrowed his optics, tilting his head to the side while keeping his vision locked on the restrained Autobot, "Soundwave!"  
The blue stereo didn't have to be a telepath to know what his master wanted. "Autobot Prowl: contains vital information. Advisement: detain and extract valuable knowledge."  
Megatron snorted and reached over to grab Prowl by the chin and brought both he and Barricade closer to him. "Well, Barricade it seems like your little escapade has both cost and benefited us."  
He glanced over to the monitor, where Laserbeak had a firm visual on the retreating Autobots.  
"You had better hope they balance out."

Dragged by the cables on his neck, Prowl remained still as Barricade took him to the darkest depths of the _Nemesis. _It didn't surprise him that the Saleen's chambers were near the torture cells, and as they approached, Prowl couldn't help but be reminded that he had once fallen in love with this mech, and now he was to be taken by force by the same mech. They arrived at an unmarked door and Barricade's claws flew over the entry pad, a chime sounded as the pass code was accepted and the door swished open to reveal black nothingness.

Prowl shuttered his optics as he was pulled inside; no going back, no stopping what was to inevitably come.

Suddenly, he was slammed onto an unpadded berth without much consideration, his helm snapping backwards with a grunt and causing a short burst of chaotic static to roll around his processors. No sooner had Prowl recovered when his neck cables were viciously assaulted by cruel fangs and a slick glossa. He couldn't help but cry out, but was silenced by a hand clamping over his mouth. Prowl's hands were held by the wrist above his head; it was no surprise, Barricade never required much of a response when interfacing, he simply liked taking all he could.

His spark immediately recognized the painful touches and the evil spark so close to his own, and, out of instinct, called to its true mate. He instantly felt pain across the broken link that barely connected him to Jazz. Panic set in at first about the Porsche's welfare, but with grief, Prowl closed the bond and hoped Jazz was too out of it to have felt their brief connection. Barricade's claws were tightening as his slick, ruby-red glossa teased the wires that he was feasting on in Prowl's neck. Out of nowhere, Barricade flipped him onto his front and re-straddled him, this time taking Prowl's wrists into one hand each. With no hesitation, the Saleen delved back into the wiring, this time it was the sensitive wiring in the joints of his quivering doorwings.

"You're so beautiful, my dear one, as elegant as one of Primus' angels…"

The vibrations from Barricade's smooth voice against his doorwing caused Prowl to moan; it reminded too much of when Jazz would use his sonic-pulse generators in his hands to relax the tense muscular cables in his doors after a long, tiring day. _Oh, Jazz…_

Barricade reared back for a moment, but Prowl didn't turn to find out why. "An angel…" The Saleen mused to himself with that same smile that made his spark flutter all those vorns ago… It was the same one that had made Prowl fall in love with him back on Cybertron before the war, before J-

An energy knife stabbed centimeters away from his face caused him to literally jump out of his revelry. He looked back and up to the Decepticon's now sadistically pleasured faceplates.

"Cut it off."

To say Prowl was confused was an understatement, his already muddled processor couldn't comprehend what Barricade was saying. "W-what?"

Barricade was staring at him with child-like fascination, "Cut. It. Off." His gaze switching between Prowl's face, the glowing knife, and finally resting on one of the door wings levitating off the berth. Prowl's spark sank in hist chest. Paralyzed, he simply stared at the other in the silence of the dark chamber for a few moments longer before the Saleen growled, grabbing the blade and forcing it into Prowl's hand. Barricade leaned down to hiss close to the Datsun's faceplates, "Have you forgotten your promise so quickly, dearest? You swore yourself to me!"

Prowl grimaced, Jazz would probably already be back at the Ark, in Wheeljack's care in the medbay, but if Barricade had gotten him twice now, Prowl didn't want to risk Jazz's wellbeing.

Well, any more than he already had…

Taking a shaky breath, he clasped the blade and forced his logic circuits and his self-preservation protocols to silence before lowering one of his doors so he could grab it. Prowl shuttered his optics, bending his arm around his back to take the first cut in the sensitive joint. Immediately, raw, unbridled pain shot up his back and into his processor; Prowl had to fight the urge to scream and drop the accursed knife. He felt Barricade's hand guide his back to the joint, obviously one cut was not going to sate him, despite the incredible pain Prowl was in.

Without thinking, he plunged the knife into his wing again and sliced through nerve cables and energon lines. Prowl kept slashing and eventually started to cry out with each cut, the pain becoming unbearable. His blood ran down his back, running off and pooling underneath him, and staining Barricade's armor.

When he couldn't bend his arm back any further, he had to reach behind his head to cut downwards now. Trying to ignore the pain and be done with this hellish torture as fast as possible, he didn't hesitate in stabbing into the joint again and again and again, until.

_Clunk! _

The energon blade stopped mid-slash, causing him to look back, but in the dark it was too hard to see; even with the pinkish glow of fresh energon. Prowl's hand released the doorwing and he tried to move it; instead of the normally elegantly unconscious control of the appendage, the door flopped around haphazardly, with only the main support holding it up.

If Prowl had consumed any energon earlier, he would have surely purged it at the sight.

Barricade must have wanted to examine Prowl's handiwork, as he seized the injured wing and turned it this way and that, eliciting sharp cries of pain from the Datsun. "Bastard!" Prowl shrieked at one point, though Barricade widely ignored it.

Holding the top of the wing with one hand and running the other one along the blood-covered joint, Barricade gave a hum of approval, before swiftly pulling the wing back and upwards.

Prowl screamed until his vocalizer felt like it would short out; it was probably only a few seconds , but I felt like hours before the weakened metal gave way to Barricade's superior strength. The Saleen tore his doorwing right off the main joint and carelessly threw it across the chamber.

Barricade wasted no time, like a wild animal he pounced on his injured prey.

He flipped Prowl onto his back, not even remembering the wound he had so recently inflicted. Prowl gasped as he was pulled into a rough and messy kiss, Barricade's glossa forcing its way into his mouth. He felt one of Barricade's hands reach up and take a hold of his chevron, bending and twisting it wickedly. Prowl, overwhelmed with pain and adrenaline, could think straight; couldn't remember the promises he made, only knowing that he wanted this to **stop**!

Prowl fought back as hard as he could, but Barricade's body pinned him to the berth. His hands free, he reached up to claw at the hovering doorwings of the Saleen. Revenge! Revenge for his torture and pain!

He clasped one by the handle and pulled it as hard as his arms would allow. Prowl had forgotten, though, that Barricade thrived on pain, being a Decepticon and all…

Barricade moaned into their kiss, excited to interface with his beloved mate again. His claws drifted lower to the edge of Prowl's pelvic region, causing a hiccupping gasp to emanate from the Datsun's vocalize, along with several muffled curses.

'_So much for slow and sweet…'_ He thought bitterly. Back on Cybertron, Barricade had always made an effort to drag out interfacing sessions with Prowl; extending their foreplay by hours just to keep close to his bonded, something that endeared the Datsun before he knew better. Now it seemed like all Barricade wanted was to _claim._

The Saleen cupped and squeezed Prowl's codpiece, reaching to tweak wires in the seams of his thigh armor. The pinned mech couldn't help but squirm a little with pleasure, despite the still raw and throbbing pain on his back.

Barricade finally released his mouth, trailing down to lick at his chest plates, just over his sensitive spark-casing. Prowl reached to push at Barricade's shoulders, but the pleasure dimmed it to his hands simply settling on the black metal.

"Uhn! …s-_stop…"_ he managed to get out, turning his head to the side, optics clenched shut. Barricade continued to caress his codpiece almost lovingly, his violent, destructive rampage quelled for the moment as he lapsed back into his caring bonded mode. Prowl couldn't help but moan, whether it was from the pain on his back or the pleasure of his front, he couldn't tell.

Prowl's spark skipped a pulse and his optical shutters flew open upon hearing the click of his codpiece coming off; his CPU flew into a panic upon hearing another, similar clicking sound.

As Barricade reared up to uncoil his interfacing cable, Prowl was desperately trying to shove the Decepticon off of him, despite already knowing it was futile. His own cable was grabbed and plugged into Barricade's port, and the Datsun gasped at the tugging feeling from the connection. His optics were wide and his frame frozen in place, processors running at miles a minute.

'_No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! N-'_

Ramming his cable into Prowl's data port, Barricade wasted no time; sending wave after wave of useless information and aggressive energy surges. The Datsun screamed at the agonizing sensation. His CPU was trying too hard to analyze and sort the data and his systems could not handle the strain of a one-sided interface, as he would never reciprocate such a disgusting act. Another powerful wave made him arch his back, causing his still-bleeding wound to send a burning pain up his spine and into his helm.

Prowl's spark was in utter turmoil; torn between relaying his distress across what was left of his bond with Jazz and protecting the hopefully still unconscious mech from knowing what was being done to him.

Above him, Barricade groaned and writhed in complete ecstasy. Reaching downwards, the Saleen clasped his chevron again; twisting and pulling again and again until Prowl's helm felt like it were being pulled off. With a snap, Prowl's helm bounced back and hit the berth rather harshly. Looking up at his attacker, he wasn't surprised to see a large portion of his chevron in the Barricade's claws.

Barricade beheld the adornment for a few seconds before tossing it behind him to allow it to join the doorwing already lying somewhere on the floor of the chamber.

Numbers and data flashed before his optics, the rippling pleasure stemming from his port turned him into a moaning, whining mess. Arching his back, his doorwing joint erupted into pain that burned down his spinal structure, which leaked into his connection with Barricade. The Saleen moaned and swooped down for another rough kiss; glossa invading Prowl's mouth.

Prowl felt like a doll, he could feel all that was happening to him, but was so helpless to stop it. Barricade kissed him and he barely put up a resistance. Clawed hands gently rubbed at his chest plates like they did so many vorns ago on Cybertron; attempting to coax open the plating.

Prowl's optics shot open. _'No. No. No slagging way I'm letting this pit-spawn __**bond**__ with me!' _He clamped his chest plates shut as best he could, but with his strength depleted, he didn't know how long he would last. But if there was one this Prowl would never do was let this monster take away what little of his life he had regained after leaving Barricade. He refused to let Jazz go.

Barricade had other ideas; persistent in his physical coaxing of Prowl's chassis and his still ongoing barrage of the Datsun's interface. One way or another, he would get Prowl to yield and reclaim what was his before that damned Porsche interfered.

Prowl groaned and pushed himself out of the kiss, "G-get off me, fragger."

Barricade chuckled and forced another wave of data through their shared connection. He nibbled at Prowl's audio, "Why would I want to do that, beloved? I just got you back, now I want to have you again. This time," a low growl erupted from within his chest, "Without any annoying interruptions."

The doorwing that had been left intact was then tortured by teasingly light touches that Prowl hadn't thought were possible from such malicious claws. He lurched upward, "Uhn!"

Tips of sharp claws managed to invade the seam of Prowl's chest with this distraction; delving deeper and deeper and soon the hand on his doorwing joined it's brother in attempting to pry the plating open.

Prowl's hands were in a fury, trying to get the hands out of him, but his panic was overwhelming his strength. "No! Stop!"

Barricade gave another sharp tug at Prowl's chestplates and split his own open, revealing a dark purple orb of light, it's casing already removed and at the ready.

"No! Don't!" He screamed in terror, but it was too late; his chest plates were forced open and Barricade's spark pushed into his own.

Pain. Utter, complete _pain _tore at his spark and bled into his every limb after the initial shock left him. The forced connection intensified and Prowl could do nothing but scream and thrash at the mech above him as his bond with Jazz was ripped out of his spark and replaced. He so desperately wanted to deny Barricade access to his spark, to cling to his and Jazz's connection, but his damned Autobot honor would not allow it, that and the fact that he could barely react, much less fight back.

So Prowl opened his spark and allowed this demented mech to replace his mate's presence inside of him. The pain stopped as the mutual connection was forged, but it caused Prowl pain none the less; his bond with Jazz disappeared entirely, like snow in a fire.

"I don't give a frag about your project, Grapple; get your aft in here, now!"

All that time around Ratchet had finally taken effect, as Wheeljack now commanded the medbay like it was his. Hoist, already there, was desperately trying to stabilize Blaster (the mech already had been transformed back into his bipedal form). Perceptor, having minimal medical skills, was frantically running about; mending this, reconnecting that, helping Hoist and Wheeljack by doing the small repairs he was able to so that they could focus on the more severe ones.

Ratchet was croaking orders and suggestions from his place on a med-berth; Ironhide doing his best to follow the ones directed at him in repairing his bonded's injuries. Inferno, Sideswipe, and Smokescreen were waiting quietly on berths of their own with their companions; Red Alert, an unusually quiet Sunstreaker, and a pacing Bluestreak who was making Red Alert mutter to himself.

Mirage and Bumblebee had struggled to get the convulsing Jazz onto a berth, so much so that Brawn had to come help them.

"If the slagger won't hold still, strap him down!" Ratchet rasped, grunting as Ironhide moved a solder too close to a nerve line, the larger red mech mumbling an apology before resuming his work.

Mirage and Bumblebee looked at each other uneasily, hesitating too long for Brawn tastes as he quickly and quite easily kept Jazz down while securing the medical restraints over his already damaged limbs. The minibot internally winced at the sight of his superior's stump of a hand, '_that had to hurt…'_

Wheeljack hustled over to the convulsing mech, attaching life-supports, energon lines, and a sedative formula into the barely conscious Jazz, struggling to attach each one. The Lancia tried to keep his fuel down as he analyzed the extent of Jazz's damages; the gashes, the cuts, the burnt-out wiring, even the busted visor. Digits twitching in anticipation, he took a deep cycle of air and allowed his hands to delve inside the wound that ran across his mid-section, melding broken fuel lines to stop the excessive bleeding. Perceptor hurried to his side and removed a few pieces of destroyed armor from Wheeljack's path before running to deposit them in a scrap-metal bin.

Grapple, finally arriving, gasped as his optics laid on the destruction of his comrades. Sunstreaker gave a growl of annoyance as the gold mech hesitated out of sheer shock, which promptly snapped the builder out of it. As Perceptor attended to Sideswipe, The gold mech picked up a few tools and knelt next to Inferno's berth.

Skyraider had dropped Blaster off into the care of the medics before shooing out anyone who didn't need help, especially a protesting Optimus Prime, whom she shooed back to the command room to bargain with Megatron for Prowl's safe return. But knowing how close the crew was, there was bound to be a crowd lurking outside the Medbay doors, waiting for news.

Jazz's spark never ceased stretching this way and that, and even began glowing and dimming erratically like it was about to snuff out; though the life support would keep all his systems functioning, it wouldn't be able to keep the spark from extinguishing. Wheeljack was desperately trying to stabilize the dying mech's body, his hands seemingly flying here and there, obeying the rasped orders of Ratchet.

Blaster was in no better condition, in fact, he was probably worse off than any other; something had gone horribly wrong. Between the wounds and his rapid loss of life, the Stereo had slipped into a stasis lock and was quickly, and permanently, shutting down. Hoist was doing everything he could to keep Blaster alive, but the damage was so extensive, it seemed like a lost cause.

Wheeljack now knew how Ratchet felt with the lives of his friends in his hands- the pressure almost drowning him. A quick glance at the wounded medic caused him to shudder involuntarily; Ratchet was in no condition to stand, let alone perform life-saving surgeries, the Lancia had to do this on his own.

Lives slowly slipping away in the hands of an inventor, a scientist, a builder, and a maintenance keeper.

Of the six officers of Prime's personal army, only two were truly unharmed, three others were lying on medical berths; bleeding to death, and one had traded himself away to an unstable Decepticon to save them.

If they _could_ be saved.

Wheeljack forced away any and all thoughts that didn't involve healing and repairing. Once all the energon lines in Jazz's middle were mended, he moved up to his chest to try and do a little work there, hoping it would ease the raging spark within.

Time moved fast as well as slow, perhaps being the adrenaline rushes that surged through him at random intervals. Grapple and Perceptor managed to patch up Inferno, Smokescreen, and Sideswipe enough that their lives weren't in danger, but didn't allow them to leave, although they forced their bedside companions to go back to their normal shifts and strictly told them to say nothing to the rest of the troops until everyone's status was permanent; for the better or worse.

Jazz's chest thrusted itself upward as the mech let out a scream that quickly overpowered his vocalizer and shorted it out. The sudden lurch also knocked the focused Wheeljack back onto his aft and caused all optics to look over at him as his spark visibly expanded significantly as if detonating, and glowing like a miniature sun. Jazz's scream became silent and his spark flared once before-

Nothing. Jazz dropped back onto the berth, unconscious, but alive. His spark flickered a few times before resuming its normalcy.

For a moment, the medbay was utterly silent. Wheeljack got back onto his feet, looking from the now peaceful mech in front of him to Ratchet, who had tried to get up to assist Jazz only to be frozen in pace when his fit had stopped.

The medic and the inventor locked optics for a moment, and the Lancia's spark sank in realization.

Whatever had been happening to Prowl's spark was done.

Prowl lay on the berth, still lying in the pool of his blood; exhausted, spent, and numb to any emotional reactions.

Barricade lay next to him, his engines purring and his still-slick claws trailing up and down his sides. Prowl's only feeling was satisfaction, of course not out of their previous coupling, but of the fact that he had successfully kept Barricade away from any Autobot information he had. At least his comrades were safe.

"Well done, my dearest. I knew you would come back to me, that Porsche could never do anything for you anyway…"

Prowl felt a surge of anger course through him before it dissipated in his tiredness, "He's more than you think of him, Barricade."

"Hm."Barricade hummed, his claws running lazy circles on the stained chassis, "Lord Megatron will be quite furious with me if I fail to find some use of you for him." He reached up to take hold of Prowl's chin and forced him to look into his optics, which almost looked like they were pleading.

"Please make this easy for both of us, love, tell me what you know and Lord Megatron will not have to hurt you."

Prowl stared at him, unbelieving. The audacity of this mech! Not even thinking of consequences, he spat at Barricade's faceplates. The Saleen winced for a moment before looking back down at Prowl with a disappointed look.

"Very well," he sighed, hauling Prowl to his feet, he pushed and dragged him to the door, "I will just have to enlist the help of my friends."


	10. Chute de Lune

**Chute de Lune**

Barricade's atrocities on Cybertron had yet to be surpassed. But he was getting there.

Prowl thought his processor line would have snapped from being shoved harshly onto the floor. The Decepticons had all seemingly had their fill of trying to get Prowl to talk; but none had any effect save for nearly killing the injured mech. Barricade had stepped in at that point, refusing to allow the mech he loved to die, no matter what. Unable to do much else, the Decepticons dragged the limp form of the tactician before Megatron, ready to admit their failure.

"We did the best we could! He won't even make a noise!"

The Decepticon warlord slammed his fists down in terrible anger, "Idiots! The lot of you! How hard can it be to get information out of a _half-dead _Autobot?"

Prowl couldn't help but smirk inwardly at that, the Decepticons on either side of him cowering in fear. '_They must be new recruits…' _He mused to himself.

Megatron turned to bark at the mech standing by the security monitors, "SOUNDWAVE!"

The telepath looked over his shoulder before turning to walk obediently towards his master. Telepathy wasn't needed to know what Megatron wanted from him, and the blue mech shooed the two Decepticon guards away from Prowl before kneeling in front of him. Lifting his chin with cold digits, Prowl looked dazed into the cloaked face. Prowl always thought Jazz was prettier with his cerulean blue visor, but for a fleeting moment wondered what he would have looked like with red.

Prowl realized, a little too late, that Soundwave had already uplinked with him and had read his bizarre thoughts. Cursing to himself, Prowl immediately threw up his firewalls and forced himself to concentrate on keeping the Decepticon _out._

Soundwave, on his part, didn't try to use mental force to push through Prowl's barriers. Instead, his presence seemed to hesitate before spreading out and testing certain points with gentle probes; trying to learn weak points in the mental defenses. Soundwave, the ever patient mech, didn't seem to have anything but time.

He had to resist; Jazz's life depended on it.

-O-O-

In this war, medics rarely 'walked and talked'.

Wheeljack and Perceptor were sprinting to keep up with Prime as they dashed to the command deck.

"Jazz has stabilized but will require more repairs after he's rested for a bit. Whatever happened with his spark has strained his systems into exhaustion."

"Inferno's spark casing was slightly punctured and cracked real bad, he'll need Ratchet to fix it later, I did the best I could but…"

"Smokescreen's damage was mostly superficial. We have successfully repaired him and he is currently assisting Trailbreaker on the Command deck."

"A lot of Sideswipe's injuries were Sunny's fault- apparently they were rough-housing at the 'Con's base. But he'll pull through to get revenge later. For now, he's on bed rest."

"Ratchet's problem is that he refuses to lay down long enough to rest properly, but most of his injuries have been repaired."

"Can he function in the field yet?"

"He would be out there one way or another regardless, but yes."

"And Blaster?"

They had reached the doors to the command deck, Prime turned to look at the two temporary medics, who both looked down and away from his gaze. Optimus' spark seized for a moment.

"Blaster fell into stasis lock; we can't bring him out of it…"

"He won't wake up?" He feared the answer.

Perceptor raised his helm with a crestfallen look, "His damage and blood loss were too great. His body had to shut down many programs and necessary hardware in order to survive. We don't know if he's even _able_ to come out of it."

Optimus let out a shaky sigh, a horrible feeling tugging at his spark, though he tried to ignore it. "Do you think that Ratchet might be able to help him?"

The door suddenly swished open behind them, startling all three mechs. A scratched, dented, and worn-looking Ratchet stood with his hands on his hips, "One step ahead of you, Prime, Blaster's unresponsive. We'll have to wait and hope that he comes-to." He stepped aside, "In the mean time, we have another Autobot that needs saved."

Optimus nodded and stepped inside the much too quiet room. He glanced over at Trailbreaker and Smokescreen who were hurrying to his side. "Status?"

Smokescreen tilted his head in the direction of Teletraan's massive screen, "Prowl's signal hasn't moved, which makes it easier for us to get back to the D-Con's base." Prime looked over the Datsun once or twice; banged up, scratched, and one optic covered with a patch, but otherwise whole and alive.

He sincerely hoped Prowl was the same.

Nodding, he looked at the red dot on the screen, displaying the captured Autobot's current location.

"Er, Prime?"

Optimus looked over to see Bumblebee at Teletraan's controls, "Cosmos just relayed energy spikes in Decepticon quadrant 24-C."

The Prime's optics narrowed in confusion.

"They're firing up the space bridge…"

~ O~O ~

Prowl was thankful he didn't need to breathe to live. Or maybe he wasn't and he envied those who could just suffocate.

His body had fallen limp save for the repetitious twitches and convulsions. It hurt, everything hurt like it had been lit on fire. The Decepticons hadn't thought to stop his bleeding, and Prowl faintly wondered if he was simply going bleed out. His limbs ached, feeling as if they weighed tons; the slightest movements sending a fury of agony through his body. Someone grabbed his collar and hauled him upwards, causing a quiet gasp and an overflow of energon running down his mouth, his helm and arms burning as they hung limply.

"You have one last chance, Autobot. Codes. Now."

Prowl couldn't even see who had spoken, his optics heavy and half opened. If he had been able to summon his voice, he would have delivered a snappy comeback or jest in the Decepticon's direction.

But he was voiceless, powerless, hopeless.

And he just lay as limp as a dead body in his captor's grip, optics shuttered, waiting for that final blow to be dealt. A violent shake caught his breath and wrangled it out of his body.

"If that's how you want it, fine, I'll simply take you apart until I get it out of you."

Something jolted Prowl in his side; pain laced its way up his body. He gave a startled half-yelp, his optics flitting to life for the barest of moments to see blurs of violet and gray.

It hurt. Primus, it hurt so much.

-O-O-

"I'm comin' with ya!" Jazz croaked, barely able to stand as firm as he wanted to; the fact that he could stand at all after so soon after major repairs nothing short of a miracle. To his right, Ratchet took a step towards him with a grumpy look on his faceplates.

"The frag you are!"

Optimus Prime's large, blue hand stalled the irate medic before he could reach Jazz; he looked pleadingly to his saboteur. "Jazz, please consider-"

"I ain't leavin' Prowl!" Jazz snapped, pointing an accusatory digit towards Ratchet, "Ya'd do the same for 'Hide! And you-" He turned to Optimus, "You've **done** it for 'Lita!"

A low blow. But quite an effective one. Both mechs could not argue with Jazz. Any faithful bonded mech would rather die than let any harm come to their bondmate; they were no exception.

"You're injured." Optimus pointed out, not going down without a fight.

"So's Ratchet." To be honest, Jazz and Ratchet were the only one's up and moving around, albeit a little shakily; Blaster, Inferno, Smokescreen (who was sent back to rest), and Sideswipe still laying in the medbay, all recovering after their repairs.

Ratchet, still embarrassed at his own shortcomings of love, put his hands on his hips, "You were nearly ripped in half."

Jazz returned his glare, "Cut, actually. And besides, I'll survive-"

"Debatable." Ratchet pointed out.

"-But Prowl might not!"

Optimus fixed him a nervous look, "You...can't feel him?"

Jazz's glare slowly dissolved into worried despair, "No, I..." the saboteur brought his face into his hands, "S'like he's just vanished."

While Jazz reigned in his emotions, Optimus turned to Ratchet. The medic had a face of shock, which quickly molded into something much deeper. A fearful, dreaded revelation.

"Ratchet? What's that mean?"

The medic didn't respond for a moment that seemed like hours. "It means that their bond has been replaced," Jazz shuddered, "or Prowl's spark has been extinguished."

Optimus glanced from one mech to the other, and made a conclusion that it was futile to argue at this point.

"Ironhide! Take command, Red Alert, I want you to take Perceptor, Grapple, and Hook and disable the space bridge; whatever they're using it for, it can't be good for Prowl." The two officers nodded and waited for more orders, "Bumblebee, Sunstreaker, Wheeljack, Gears, Hound, Mirage, Brawn, Bluestreak, with me!" Optimus nodded to Ratchet and Jazz, "Both of you will find your way there regardless; stick to my orders and do **not** leave our perimeter, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Both mechs replied, realizing Optimus had slipped into his no-nonsense leader role.

The Prime looked to his assembled mechs, "Wheeljack, I hate to say this, but we're going to need backup."

The engineer cocked his helm, "What'd you have in mind, Prime?"

-O-O-

Prowl opened his optics after a while of no pain, wondering if he simply hadn't gone numb all over.

He was being carried like a sparkling in some large mech's arms. It hardly mattered who it was holding him, the tactician's head lolled forward and he caught a glimpse of his body.

Whoever had been with him last had literally meant 'taking him apart'. He could see broken circuitry blazing bare through what would appear to be chucks of his own metal flesh missing.

His chassis, waist, groin, and legs all had numerous pieces of derma-plating missing with blood, dried and flowing, all around the wounds. _'Ouch…' _Prowl thought groggily to himself.

Black still clung to his vision in the corners, threatening to reclaim his consciousness. He just felt so tired now; maybe it would be alright to nod off for a little while, just to recover some of his strength.

Slumping back into the shoulder of the mech holding him, the jostling eventually became somewhat soothing as he fell into recharge.

-O-O-

In the dark of the night, with no light from the moon or any surrounding sources, the base didn't even look like much. Set against an overhang, it all but disappeared into the shadows of the evening, only those avidly looking for such a place would find it tonight.

But it helped to have a night-vision scope.

"Bluestreak, report." A voice behind him murmured lowly.

The young sharpshooter didn't look up from his rifle's scope, optics darting everywhere. "No patrols, no guards, no outer security systems; absolutely dead down there." Bluestreak opted to skip any unneeded adjectives or drawn out sentences; this wasn't a good time to make someone's audio receptor malfunction.

Optimus, Jazz, and Hound were gathered around the little Datsun, lying on their stomachs on the outcropping the Autobot's had congregated on. They had sent Mirage and Bumblebee to inspect the fortress at a closer range, the larger spy enshrouding them both with his electro-disruptor.

But both had reported nothing. Even the entrance of the Decepticon base had been left wide open.

A trap. It had to be.

"They probably know we're here already." Hound whispered, his optics fixed on the space between them and the base, watching for his lover and the youngling with him.

Wheeljack piped up from behind, his voice low and unusually somber, "Red's team is approaching the space bridge, but they're not reporting any Decepticon look-outs."

"Maybe they're in a hurry to get out before Jazz brings down unholy wrath?" Someone attempted humor. And promptly failed.

Optimus turned back to the group of Autobots behind him, "Ratchet, stay here with Jazz; if this turns ugly, I don't want you involved."

"Prime!" Ratchet began, looking panicked. But Optimus wouldn't hear of it, he refused to risk the best medic they'd ever had.

"Stay here. That's an order." He looked down to the much too silent Bluestreak, "You too, we might need you to cover us out there."

Bluestreak looked frightful for a moment, but nodded and clutched his rifle. Jazz approached him hastily, "I'm not stayin' behind."

Optimus held up a hand, stopping his adopted youngling. "I can't risk you aggravating your wounds, Jazz. It's better if you stay up here and provide cover-fire." He had almost lost Jazz twice now, there would be no more close calls; not for Jazz or anyone else under his command.

Jazz stepped forward to jab Optimus in his chest. "I already told ya, I aint leavin' Prowl. I'm comin' with ya down there!"

Prime narrowed his optics, his patience on this subject growing thin. He grabbed the black hand in his own large, blue one, "I will not allow you to further injure yourself, Jazz, you are no good to Prowl dead."

Jazz snarled, and Optimus could swear he was being glared at from behind the repaired cerulean visor, "Jus' cause I'm injured don' make me any less good at what I do! I'm still the head of black ops; a rescue ain't outta my ability range!"

The other Autobots had grown quiet as they watched their leader quarrel with their SIC, unsure of which side was right, but they all kept to themselves regardless.

Optimus was quiet for a moment. It was true, he hadn't appointed Jazz to be the leader of special operations for nothing; the youngling had been bred for black ops- his parents being designed for stealth and flexibility. Jazz had worked hard to hone his skills as a saboteur, and as the Autobot's saboteur, he had garnered a 98% success rate, as Prowl had so neatly calculated before they even left Cybertron. Jazz was the best; plain and simple.

He gave into the youngling far too often for his own good, but there was no arguing with someone who had been raised on Elita-1's wiles and Ironhide and Ratchet's stubbornness. Optimus sighed tiredly, "All right, but you will stick with us all the way; understand?"

Jazz's face melted into a triumphant smirk.

Behind them, an unsatisfied grunt interrupted them;

"Me Grimlock bored, when we Dinobots get to smash stuff?"

Prowl was rudely awoken when he felt himself be dropped onto his side, the one missing a doo with a gaping wound in its stead, much to his luck. After the paralyzing, searing pain receded a little, he managed to open his optics and lift his helm a little, only to stare down the black muzzle of Megatron's fusion cannon.

The tactician looked up into the ruby optics of Megatron, who seemed to be seething, then looked over the warlord's shoulder, at Barricade, who was much too supine and quiet for Prowl's liking. What was going on? Where-

"You made it come to this, Autobyte. Goodbye." Megatron growled.

A blinding flash of light and a roaring in his audio receptors was all that Prowl could recognize as one last shot of pain coursed through him.

And then there was nothing.

-O-O-

Infiltrating bases with Dinobots, bored Dinobots nonetheless, was as easy as getting Sunstreaker to talk about how amazing he looked.

A few smashed walls as the rest of the Autobots simply walked through the unguarded doorway gave Grimlock's entourage the grand entrance they so obviously wanted. Wheeljack must have programmed them with his incessant need for flashiness, Optimus mused.

As Mirage, Bumblebee, and Bluestreak had all reported, the base was dead. No lights, no movements, even the security systems were offline. There was something seriously wrong here, and every mech there, save for the Dinobots, could feel it.

"Autobots, fan out, locate Prowl and report back. That is our objective. Hound, Mirage; with me, Grimlock; take the Dinobots and find any Decepticons here, got it? Brawn, Sunstreaker, Bumblebee; go with Jazz to the dungeons, that's where Barricade apparently held all his captives. Wheeljack, Gears; get to the control room and see if there's any security footage. The Decepticons have to be around here somewhere, stay sharp!"

The Autobots either nodded or saluted, with the exception of the Dinobots, taking off in various directions down darkened hallways, guns raised to defend themselves. Optimus sincerely hoped they would all come back alive; he didn't want to find himself at anyone's funeral anytime soon.

He turned back to the waiting scout and spy, "We're going to find Barricade's quarters."

Mirage looked to the doorway outside, to the outcropping where Ratchet and Bluestreak were waiting for them, "Decepticon quarters are usually below the command decks."

Optimus nodded and turned to move into the darkness, his gun raised and digit already at the trigger. This was dangerous, and he was risking the lives of his men with every minute they remained here. Surely the Decepticons wouldn't just abandon their base, not when they had the Autobot tactician, with all his knowledge of their base's workings, as a captive! Why? When all they had to do was hold him hostage!

But this was Barricade, a mech of incredible violence, unspeakable crimes, and an apparent obsession with claiming Prowl for his own. He probably wouldn't allow the black and white to escape his grasp a third time. And that's what scared the Prime the most…

Hound found the lift, but they all agreed it was far too risky, and they promptly their teammates to stay away from the elevators, just to be safe. All the others responded with an A okay, and they resumed their trek, looking for a flight of stairs downwards. But it would appear that Decepticons were very lazy beings, as their stairs were narrow and probably only used for emergencies.

The three made their way down into the murky darkness, silent as the grave. It was difficult to find which room belonged to which Decepticon; like the Autobot base, the violet walls of the base had no individual identification, nothing that would inform them of whose quarters they were looking into. Searching each room was a nightmare; there were very few personal items in each to tell them apart. Mostly the decorations of a room were war trophies the soldier had brought back with them from the battlefield. Mirage had almost had a processor freeze upon finding one Decepticons stash of harvested interfacing cables. But figuring out which was Barricade's was hardly a challenge.

Upon entering the room, Hound immediately stilled, the stench of the room smelled like the rusting of a corpse mixed with purged energon. Flicking on his headlights, the scout found nothing as far as personal items; there was a berth, a small table, and a small shelf, but nothing graced the surfaces of any of them. It was the walls that made the room distinguishable.

Horrible writings of Cybertronian, English, and various nonsense's were written, and carved, on the walls of the room. Most of it made no sense at all; the rest was single words that were an everyday part of Decepticon vocabulary.

Death, kill, torture, reclaim, slaughter, triumph, and destroy were the easiest ones to read from the doorway. "Prime, Mirage? Come check this out."

The other two followed him into the darkened room, Optimus flicking on his lights as well.

Mirage's olfactory sensor wrinkled at the smell, or maybe he was disgusted at the foul writings, "And here I thought Barricade was just a Decepticon who was good at his job."

Hound shook his head and glanced up, finding the writings even continued onto the ceiling, "He's crazier than a glitching Red!"

Optimus just glanced at the one word written in uncommonly neat handwriting above the head of the berth; '_Retribution.'_

For some reason, he shuddered in the silence.

A scream as clear as the night shot through the murky corridors and echoed into the hallway, one that he recognized all too well.

Jazz.

Instantly, Optimus reacted, lurching down the hall and leaving Hound and Mirage to call after him, sprinting to follow him. If Barricade had so much as touched his youngling…

The twisting, turning expanse of the Decepticon base caused more frustration that added to his fearful adrenaline. He managed to find the emergency stairway again and descended again and again until he reached the bottom floor; the Decepticon torture rooms. More stressful hallways made his life difficult as panic increased in his spark. Finally the sickening violet faded as he turned to find Jazz crumpled on the hallway floor, Bumblebee and Sunstreaker tending to him as Brawn looked into the open doorway in front of them. The mini-bot turned to look at him with a shockingly helpless look. "Prime…"

His spark ran cold as numb legs brought him forward, past the wildly sobbing Jazz and into the room. He didn't need a light; the blood was easy to see as it glowed all over the room, covering discarded body parts on the floor and illuminating the writing on the wall.

'_If he won't be mine, he won't be anyone's! His death is on you, Jazz dear.'_

Optimus' helm dipped downwards in disbelief. From the light of the doorway, he could see a broken chevron glinting red in the light, a blood covered, mangled doorwing, and pieces of Cybertronian flesh littering the ground. So much blood; pools and little streams of rosy life fluid.

"I-I checked, Prime, there…there wasn't a whole corpse." Brawn called softly, polar opposite than his usually demeanor.

"That bastard 'Con must've taken the body with him! Sick fragger!" Sunstreaker snarled in barely controlled anger. Optimus shuttered his optics, fighting the need to purge his tanks at the sight, the _thought_. "Bumblebee, Sunstreaker, take Jazz back to base," he turned to see Hound and Mirage finally arriving at the scene, "You two, search the premises for a body. Take the others with you, look through _every _hallway, every room, even the ventilation systems. Not one inch of this base is to go unsearched!" The two hesitated for a moment, looking confused and scared at the same time, before snapping off proper salutes and dashing back the way they came. Optimus watched them go, and then knelt down to help Bumblebee and Sunstreaker with the distraught Jazz. "Brawn, go inform the others." The mech obeyed without question, leaving him to tend to the saboteur.

"Prowl could still be alive, Jazz, those parts…they aren't vital, he could have just been taken somewhere else! We can still find him! Right, guys?" Bumblebee attempted to comfort Jazz, looking to Sunstreaker and Optimus for confirmation. The golden front-liner didn't say anything, Optimus doubted Sunstreaker could think of saying anything at this point, but grabbed Jazz's arm gently and helped the mech to his feet.

But Optimus already knew the answer. It was written on the wall next to them.

"We'll find Prowl, eventually. It's only a matter of time."

Jazz hesitated, before he finally looked up and desperately searched Optimus' face, for something, anything to give him hope. He probably found none. Jazz opened his mouth to say something, but he was suddenly interrupted by a voice behind them.

"Prime," someone called, softly, brokenly. The Autobot leader turned to see Ratchet, the medic unarmed and looking absolutely devastated. He had never seen his friend look so…vulnerable.

"Red . The Decepticon's already destroyed the space bridge."


	11. House of Cards

** A House of Cards **

Months passed by, summer faded into fall, fall receded to winter winds and cold. The emerald leaves adorning the plant life died and fell to the ground. Sun was shrouded by clouds, suppressing all life outside; animals hibernating, and migrating, leaving annual desolation in their wake.

But nothing could be compared to the despair the Autobots felt in the wake of Barricade.

Blaster never woke up from stasis, no matter the inventive methods that Perceptor, Wheeljack, or Ratchet could come up with. Optimus eventually had to appoint Cosmos to take over as communications officer, at least temporarily. With no space bridge for themselves, the Autobots had no choice but to risk using a shuttle to ferry Blaster to an Autobot medical station, where he would hopefully recover away from the main battles.

The other Autobots involved in the hostage situation all recovered flawlessly and were ready to take revenge, much to Optimus' chagrin. The Prime tried to discourage his troops from seeking revenge, but probably knew it would happen anyway. The Decepticons had killed one of their own and sent another into a possibly permanent sleep; with a band of soldiers like theirs it was impossible not to grow protective of your battlefield brothers. So when the day came that Blaster was to be sent away, it was a very dark day. The Autobots were lined up like it was a funeral, their helms bowed in respect as the mech was wheeled past them and onto the shuttle. Ratchet looked like someone had, as the humans said, kicked his puppy. Windcharger and Mirage volunteered to man the shuttle while Skyfire escorted them the rest of the way.

The day then proceeded in solemn silence; no pleasant chatting, no games or frivolous roughhousing, not a laugh to be heard as the bots went about their work. After the day shifts were completed, most came to grab their energon and sat around.

Jazz was among them.

He had been off duty for his own good for the past couple of weeks, which he surprisingly did not object to. He spent his time in the commons, apparently thinking to himself while others came and went, barely speaking or moving. That night, though, he grabbed a cube of energon, stood on his seat, and gave a small toast to Blaster, encouraging others to think of him. With silence, the others did the same, muttering the same toast for Blaster, with it, a silent vow for a cure, if not by the medic's hands, then somehow by theirs.

But it didn't make up for the void left by Prowl.

A few weeks ago they had detected energy signatures a few thousand miles away, a new space bridge that had been built and used to transport something back to Earth. Not long after, Megatron launched another raid on a nuclear power plant. This time, thanks to the still-recovering masses of the Autobots and the missing military tactics, the Decepticons were successful in hauling off several loads of precious energon, which only served to discourage the Autobots, especially since Barricade was not seen on the battlefield to receive his punishment with the other Decepticons; what little there was to be had.

The Decepticons continued to triumph over the Autobots, their efforts much more organized and smooth, so unlike their usual tactics. Perceptor theorized that, before Prowl was killed; the Decepticons had probably downloaded his stored battle plans. It furthered frustration to an all time high, making all the Autobots edgy and snappish and causing pointless arguments and fights to break out. Trailbreaker and Smokescreen had no other choice but to frantically recreate battle plans and defensive strategies, though none being as good as Prowl's, but neither of them possessed a battle computer to aid them like Prowl had.

Complaining humans were constantly calling as Decepticon attacks increased in efficiency and numbers. It was all Optimus could do to reassure them of Autobot retaliation as well as negotiate the same constant stream of necessary supplies and energon.

The Autobots continued to struggle amongst themselves, negative feelings on the rise with every passing ordeal and battle, but the biggest effort was Jazz.

The saboteur was dwindling with the guilt of Prowl's death. It made him a mech that no one could recognize.

Practically every Autobot on the Ark had tried to get Jazz, the old Jazz, back; even if only for a few moments. But try as they might, the death of his bonded weighed too much on Jazz's shoulders; Optimus was resorted to having Smokescreen and Skyraider double-team him in counseling sessions when they could manage to track him down. The saboteur kept to himself nowadays, his only visitors being his counselors, his medic, and his leader. Optimus tried to help his friend, but there was only so much one could do; what one could say to a mech who had endured a traumatic separation from his bondmate? That everything was going to be fine? That Prowl was in a better place? No words could mend a broken bond, only time and acceptance could. But there really wasn't time for anything now that the Decepticons had gained their leverage.

This was war, they all reminded themselves. War meant casualties; they had accepted this when they signed up.

So why could they not accept this?

"C'mon, Jazz, come with me fer a drive. It's so pretty this time a' year, but Red won't go with meh; he keeps sayin' we'll stick out more to aerial somethin' er others…" Inferno smiled sincerely at his sullen friend. Jazz managed to give a sympathetic smile of his own over the rim of his energon cube.

"I don' think so, 'Ferno. 'M not much of a cold-weather mech, y'know?" he offered quietly. The fire truck's smile disappeared, a worried face replacing it. The same went for Hound and Bluestreak's as they all sat around a table in the recreation room.

Bluestreak reached to touch his arm, "Jazz, please. You haven't left the Ark in weeks, you really should go outside and see the snow, there's even a big concert coming up in a few weeks that's all outside. You should go, I mean, it's a bit of a drive but I'm sure Skyfire-"

"Blue, easy." Hound punctuated. The tracker looked over at Jazz, watching as the saboteur shrunk back into his protective shell that forced everyone out. He had been withdrawing more and more lately, even forgetting a few important things here and there; definitely not the Jazz they used to know, the head of special operations and Optimus Prime's right hand bot.

"Jazz, you need to stop sulking. We haven't found Prowl's body and the statistics of his survival are-"

"Not good." Jazz interrupted, helm snapping upwards, "Fact is though, Hound, ya weren't bonded to him; I was. An' I know what I felt; what I still feel. Prowl's dead. Body or not, he's long gone." The last part of the statement dropped off into a painful whimper.

Inferno reached to put a hand on the saboteur's shoulder, wishing to do something helpful but the poor fire mech couldn't think of a thing to do. What could be said? Primus help him if anything ever happened to Red Alert, he doubted his own will to go on without his own bonded at his side, save to exact revenge from any who had taken Red from him.

"So what're ya gonna do now?" He had to ask; had to know if this was the route Jazz had chosen.

Jazz looked at Inferno scrupulously, mulling over his options before he brushed off the hand on his shoulder, stood, and left the room silently. They stared after him before Hound growled uncharacteristically. Bluestreak's shoulder's fell, as did his doorwings sullenly. Inferno continued to stare at the doorway, as if expecting the saboteur to return.

A harsh slap to the back of his helm snapped his attention back to the present. Looking back, Inferno was greeted with the sight of polished golden armour.

"Do you fraggers have nothing better to do than harass him? Go 'face your boyfriends and leave Jazz alone." Sunstreaker snarled, leaning down into Inferno's faceplates.

The fire mech stood and shoved the yellow twin away, only to be grabbed by Sideswipe who was standing behind Hound and Bluestreak. Hound stood so quickly his seat tipped and fell over as he tried to aid Inferno.

"Cool it! Both of you!" He shouted, trying to regain control of the situation, "This isn't helping anyone!"

Inferno snorted, rearing back and punching Sideswipe hard. "Dunno 'bout that, Hound, felt good to me." He laughed darkly before getting tackled by Sunstreaker into the table they had just been sitting at; effectively smashing it. The two grappled and landed solid blows on one another, causing a commotion in the room. Onlookers cheered for a bot, then turned and argued with someone who was for the other. The whole recreation room erupted into chaos and fighting like wildfire.

Sideswipe recovered and attempted to join his brother in the fray, but Hound tried to stop him to talk some sense into his CPU; only to be punched in his optic, hard enough to shatter it audibly. Bluestreak cried out in surprise at the violent maneuver, catching the mech as he fell to the floor. "Hound, please-!" But the scout's anger took over him, and he clambered up again to fight.

The young Datsun froze, looking around at the scene. Autobots everywhere were fighting like crazy, the tensions that had mounted all these months finally erupting in a violent riot. Losing battle after battle to the ever-jeering Decepticons and losing Prowl, the processor of the Autobot army, fueled rage and anger into adrenaline used for swinging fists and cruel words directed towards friends and comrades.

The door on the other side of the room was thrown open, revealing Ratchet, Ironhide, Red Alert and Optimus, coming to stop the fighting.

Instantly, Red Alert and Ironhide leapt into the twins' fight, separating the twins from Hound and Inferno. Red shoved his bonded with unexpected strength into the bulkhead, Ironhide grabbing the twins and forcing them to the floor. Ratchet was busy stopping Cliffjumper and Brawn from murdering each other, leaving Optimus to bellow at the rest.

"**ENOUGH**!"

At the sound of anger touching the ever kind and stoic voice, the fighting ceased. All optics turned to their leader, some shocked, some shameful, some still full of fury. Silence enclosed the room in a suffocating vice.

Optimus' optics were narrowed as he regarded his troops carefully, "This lunacy needs to stop **now. **We are not going to be at each other's throat cabling like Decepticon droids, not at a time like this."

"What difference does it make?" Huffer cried out, "The way things are going at this _time; _we'll all be dead, or Decepticon slaves, before too much longer, anyway!" Murmurs of agreement rippled through the masses. Ratchet silenced Huffer's rant with a swift clock to the helm.

Red Alert's helm snapped up at that from where he had been quietly scolding Inferno, "We are NOT going to die or be slaves. Even with Prowl gone, we are more than capable of functioning as an army." He almost sounded insulted.

"As if you'd know, you glitch, when was the last time you actually went into battle?" Sunstreaker sneered, causing Inferno to try and take another shot at the twin. Red Alert easily held the mech back with a warning look.

Optimus moved towards the twins, and Ironhide dragged them back up to stand, "Whether Prowl is here or not, we are united as Autobots. His death may cause us to falter, but we must hold strong, these petty arguments of 'what-if's' cannot help him or us." He regarded the twins carefully before turning to the rest gathered. "Prowl would be disgusted at this," he motioned to them, still tense, "You dishonor him by fighting amongst yourself like spoiled younglings. He gave the ultimate sacrifice to save fellow Autobots; we can't allow the Decepticons to go unpunished for that. So we need to stick together as one."

The Autobots gathered bowed their heads in memory of their fallen tactician. Murmurs rose again in agreement to their leader's words.

Optimus cycled a breath of air, "Now, all of you disperse, I do not want another one of these instances again, understand?"

"Yes, sir." The masses replied at the same time, sullen and low. They began to leave, Ratchet barking to the departing that he wouldn't be fixing anyone and that they would have to live with their dents and scuffs for a while. Optimus moved to intercept the catalyst of the fight; the twins, Hound, Bluestreak, and Inferno.

"What started all of this?" He demanded.

Inferno gave an accusatory nod of his helm to Sunstreaker, "Slagger over there started it, we," he motioned to Hound and Bluestreak, "were tryin' to cheer Jazz up and this guy starts in tellin' us to get away from him!"

"You're the one who hit me!" Sideswipe balked, "We **were **trying to get you away from Jazz; you're doing nothing but making him worse!"

"_You _should have known better!"Red Alert swatted Inferno before realizing what had been said and looked around, "Wait, Jazz? He was here, too?"

Hound shook his helm gently, nursing his broken optic, "Left before it started."

Bluestreak nodded in agreement silently.

Optimus pinched the ridge of his olfactory sensor, taking yet another deep inhale of cool air to calm his agitated systems. "You all know better. Jazz cannot be healed with words, nor does senseless fighting change the fact that his bonded is dead. All of you are to leave him be unless necessary. And all of you are going to the brig for fighting."

The twins groaned and Inferno pouted, Hound's helm snapped up to look Optimus in the optics. "Sir, Bluestreak wasn't involved; he didn't fight at all, he tried to stop us!" the scout tried to defend the young sniper.

Ironhide huffed, shoving the twins towards the direction of the brig, "Alright ya two, ya know where ta go." Sunstreaker growled and stormed off while Sideswipe seemed to drag himself.

"I hope that pain was worth it, Sideswipe." Ratchet smirked, nodding at his leg.

Red Alert looked at Inferno, "You too, Inferno." He warned, sending the fire mech off with a frown.

Hound followed obediently, clutching his optic and refusing to look at a glaring Ratchet, leaving Bluestreak to look at his commander questioningly.

Optimus ushered the young Datsun to move towards the quarters, "You're dismissed, Bluestreak."

Bluestreak nodded solemnly hurrying out to let the officers have their discussion.

"This can't go on; we're tearing ourselves apart."

"We will be soon enough."

"What's there fer us ta do? Jazz's doin' nothin' but mopin' around, given 'em no hope an they're at each other's throats fer it."

"They're frustrated, Ironhide, that they could not save Prowl and cannot help Jazz. It's making them anxious."

"Which is only leading to poor performance on the battlefield."

"Are you forgetting what Prowl gave them? Primus only knows what kind of plans the 'Cons got from him!"

"Prowl didn' give them to the Cons willingly, Red, an ya damn well know it!"

"Shut up, you two. We're already three officers short, the soldiers don't need to see the rest of us acting like sparklings."

"Ratchet is right, we must stay strong in the absence of our friends, the others will need hope to keep going." Optimus sighed, looking to Ratchet at his left. "Has there been any report of change with Blaster?"

The medic shook his helm sadly, "None. He isn't responding to the medical staff's treatment and they're running out of ideas."

Ratchet took a deep cycle of air, "Jazz is still mourning and completely useless to us at this point and Prowl's gone. Perhaps now is a good time to promote temporary officers?" he offered forlornly.

Ironhide looked to his leader, any opinion of his gone in the face of truth, "Might be a good idea, gives Jazz a break to recover and more hands around here to motivate the ranks?"

Shuttering his optics for a moment, Optimus straightened and looked to his officers; his trusted friends dwindled down to the three, and nodded. "Indeed. Have Smokescreen take over Prowl's duties, at least for now and instruct Trailbreaker to aid him. Relieve Jazz of command; Mirage should be more than capable of handling his duties." He began to walk towards the command deck, dismissing Ratchet and Ironhide to take care of his commands. Red Alert trotted behind him, "And Cosmos?"

"He's doing fine where he is, between him, you, and Teletraan-1 we should be taken care of." The mini-bot had been delighted at the chance to help, and had been quite close to Blaster, often watching him as he worked. Hopefully, he would be able to fill the space his friend left until Blaster had recovered.

"And," Red Alert grabbed his commander's arm to stop him, turning to face each other, "Do you really think the soldiers will like the idea of their officers being replaced?"

"Do you, Red?"

The security director hesitated for a moment, "Let me tell them it was my idea, they already blame me for letting Barricade do this, I can handle it. I don't want them to think you're replacing them permanently; we're already low on morale."

Optimus regarded his security director carefully; to allow Red Alert to protect him would mean the others would rally against him and doubt his ability to protect the Ark. It had happened before with the Negavator incident and also after Barricade's first arrival on Earth, and he knew of the gossip circulating that it was Red Alert's fault Prowl was dead.

And Red Alert not only allowed it, he believed it to be true.

"I cannot allow you to do that, Red. I am their leader; I have a responsibility to let them know. No matter what, they must have complete faith in their remaining officers. Whether or not they keep faith in me is trivial."

Red Alert started to protest as Optimus turned and continued to the command deck, "Optimus!"

But the Prime kept walking away.

"Hound, really? YOU of all mechs on this crazy ship, in the brig? What's this place coming to?" Ratchet mumbled as he patched Hound's optic to keep anymore glass from falling out.

Hound, leaning up against the wall of his cell, sighed, "Wasn't intentional, doc."

"Intentional's got nothing to do with anything, Hound! YOU fought. For what? The twins have done worse to provoke you, why now, of all times, do you let them get to you?"

Hound's helm snapped up to look at Ratchet with a feral snarl, "Because, Ratchet, they think they're helping Jazz by not letting us, his actual friends, try and bring the old him back!"

Ratchet simply grabbed Hound's helm again to resume work, "And pummeling the scrap out of each other does anything?"

"I didn't start it, Inferno did." He jerked his helm to the cell across from his, where Red Alert was tending to Inferno's minor injuries along with scolding his audio off. Inferno must have heard Hound over his bonded's lecture, because the fire truck leveled an unfriendly glare at the Jeep.

Ratchet looked from Inferno to Hound as he paused in his work, "Not like you to blame others…" He murmured quietly, resuming work.

Hound tipped his helm back to rest against the wall, "Well, the big idiot shouldn't have thrown the first punch."

"Ah CAN hear ya, Hound. The brig ain't soundproofed." Inferno drawled dangerously, finally alerting Red Alert to what the larger mech had actually been paying attention to this whole time.

Hound smiled, unusually sarcastic-looking, "Hope you did; sometimes I worry your stupidity affects your senses."

Inferno made to stand, but Ratchet was quick to intervene, "HOUND, INFERNO, e-nough." He punctuated. Inferno widely ignored him, stalking towards the energy barrier that guarded the entrance to his cell, "Why don't'cha try sain' that to mah faceplate, ya fragger."

Red Alert quickly grabbed his bondmate away from the bars, in case Inferno would try to hurl himself through them to get to Hound.

Hound stood himself, "Go rust, slagger!"

"Your first!"

Ratchet left with Red Alert, giving up on repairing the two when it was obvious they were going to try and hurt each other until they hurt themselves.

It was time to stop this, Ratchet thought, quickly activating his .

Jazz found himself standing outside of the tactical office that had belonged to Prowl, and now to Smokescreen. He peered down at the electronic lock on the side of the door, now blaring bright green, signifying an unlocked door; ready for anyone to waltz through inside.

Had Red Alert been undistracted, he would have been appalled.

Stepping up to the scanner, the door gave a hiss as it slid by.

The door swished open and waited, beckoning him inside. Walking through into the darkness, he spotted a visage behind the glow of a console on the desk. Jazz listened to the audio that filled the room; Prowl's therapy sessions, the videos were playing onscreen.

'_You seem agitated.'_

'_Do I? I apologize; being trapped with a nosy femme against my will does get me a bit…agitated.'_

'…'

'_Say something.'_

'_What is it that you would like me to say, Prowl?'_

'_Frag you! You psyche's are all the same! Always saying the same damn thing! You think you can fix everything with a few questions and your condescending attitude, don't you?'_

'_You seem very angry at me, Prowl. Do I remind you of someone? Your mother perhaps?"_

A faint mumble this time,_ "Why is it always the mother's fault…"_

"_Prowl?"_

"…"

"_Prowl?"_

The video stopped there as the femme behind the desk looked up at her visitor. "If want to get these, I can't let you have them." Skyraider spoke softly, half-mumbled with a hand on her cheek.

Jazz shook his head, "Ratch me, told me to meet him here."

Skyraider's wings twitched. She had probably been called here for the same reason without being told why. Which would annoy a prying femme like herself.

He sat across from her as they basked in silence for a moment. Skyraider broke it as she looked around, "Smells funny in here."

"Prowler didn't leave here too often, has his smell."

"Hm."

They sat again in awkward silence until the doors hissed open and Ratchet entered the dark office; two energon cubes in one hand, another in his other.

"Good to see you both actually paid attention to my message." The medic snapped, weariness making his attitude less than pleasant. He tossed a cube to Skyraider, who caught it effortlessly, and slid the other down the desk to Jazz, who stopped it with his hand.

Before either of them quipped back, Ratchet sat himself down in the third chair in front of Prowl's desk, angling himself between Jazz and Skyraider and opening his cube. Taking a long drink, Ratchet laid back in the chair as if the three of them were merely relaxing in the recreational room after their shifts.

"They're tearing each other apart out there, you know." He directed this at Jazz, whose jaw clenched visibly.

"That supposed to be my fault?" The saboteur snapped back, equally weary from long nights spent lying awake with memories and nightmares.

"Well, they ARE arguing about you."

Jazz snorted, relaxing back into the chair, mind a million miles away. Skyraider, for her part, remained sitting silent, half-illuminated by the still glowing screen.

After a while, Skyraider began tapping the keys of the console, doing something on-screen that took her attention off the two mechs. "I'm sure if you perked up a little; returned to the old you, they would have less to fight about." She said lowly.

Jazz's visor glinted in the console's dim light as he cocked his helm to look at her. " Probably. Expect me to?"

The femme shook her helm a little, still typing away. "Nope." She opened her cube and took a slight sip.

Ratchet drank another mouthful of energon, "You'd be a bastard fool if you did."

They fell back into silence, save for the femme's now all-too repetitive typing. She hit the same keys over and over again in a sequence, a beat to their weary melancholy.

Jazz finally opened his cube and took a swig of it, tasting the electrifying jolt of Earth-brewed high grade. To his aching systems, it did wonders instantly.

After a few more minutes of no speaking, Jazz decided to ask the question that had been on his processor since he received the comm. from Ratchet.

"So why are we here?"

Ratchet gazed at him, like he was gauging Jazz's reactions. Skyraider stopped typing for a moment to look at him too. "To offer you a way out." Ratchet said quite simply.

THAT had Jazz's attention. Behind his visor, Jazz raised an optical ridge.

Skyraider laced her fingers together and leaned towards him from across the desk. "Decepticons don't keep prisoners once they actually get what they want, and they did."

Jazz snapped his helm to glare at her, but Ratchet stopped him from arguing with her. "Prowl isn't coming back, Jazz, and at this rate; you won't be around much longer either. So we're here to help you by offering a solution to your pain."

Jazz gazed into Ratchet's optics, behind his visor, glancing at the femme beside him as well. Both were awaiting his response with patient quiet.

A solution to his pain. To his anguish. His loneliness and guilt. Couldn't hurt.

"Wha'd'ya have in mind, doc?"

END BOUND AND BROKEN

CONTINUED IN SEQUEL- AT TRINITY'S END


End file.
